That Old Joke
by WhatWldMrsWeasleyDo
Summary: Sirius is lean and intense, but Bill Weasley is determined to go straight. Surely Fleur is enough for any man? Dirty and sweet. Bill Weasley/Sirius Black. Grimmauld Place. Slash. Smutty. Set during OotP.
1. Chapter 1 Dog Days

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY PRIVILEGED TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Dog Days

Schoolboys unbuttoning their shirts, toddlers pulling off sunhats, a panting dog licking itself, roller-bladers in shorts, a queue at the ice cream van and half-stripped builders made the park look like mid-summer. But it was the end of September.

Bill sweated in his pin-stripe suit. He carried the jacket over his arm, but didn't dare undo the tie. One of his contacts at The Bank of England might spot him. He had to stay in rôle for a while longer.

Sun-soaked images passed in front of him but he was too hot to focus on any. He needed to drink but he wasn't carrying any Muggle money so he'd have to wait. Something in the park felt wrong. He weaved between the bodies lying on the grass. More topless men. Think about Fleur. Imagine her topless. Better?

He was definitely too old now to have noticed the bare skin bordered by school uniform white shirts. Was that what felt wrong? Or watching the thigh muscles of the skaters? It was September, for Godric's sake! Wasn't it time the Muggles started dressing decently again?

That dog was somehow familiar, the one that had been washing its balls the way dogs do. It reminded him of the old joke:

_A man walks into a pub, or somewhere, and sees a dog licking its privates. So he says to the landlord, or whoever, "I wish I could do that," to which the landlord replies, "If you give him a bone I expect he'll let you."_

Bill chuckled to himself. Then he remembered how he knew that dog. He felt nauseous. He told himself the punch-line again and he felt something else. Think about Fleur.

His hand felt suddenly wet and he looked down.

"You dirty dog! I know where that tongue's been!" He wiped the dog's spit onto its own fur. The dog stood still, panting with its tongue hanging out. As though it were laughing. Bill took a quick look round at all the happy, hot Muggles. People do talk to dogs, don't they?

He crouched down and grabbed the animal by the scruff of its neck, looked straight into its big, wet eyes and said, "You're not supposed to be out. I'm taking you back."

The scruffy, black dog whimpered pathetically, then attempted a sharp move to dislodge his grip. He held tight.

A young woman with a pushchair stopped to watch the tussle, eventually asking, "Is it your dog? We were a bit worried. He hasn't got a collar."

Whether she was worried for the dog or for her child she didn't say.

"It slips it off," Bill explained, keeping hold of the warm fur. "It's not mine but I know where it lives. I'll take it back to its home."

The woman smiled and nodded as she moved on, clearly relieved that she wouldn't be expected to do anything. Bill started to drag the beast, but it wasn't co-operating. He kicked its leg, which earned him some disapproving glares. The dog growled, baring its teeth, trying to twist out of his grip.

Bill sighed and clamped the squirming hound between his knees while he took off his belt and fastened it round the dog's neck as a make-shift lead. Then he remembered who he was actually restraining and straightened up rapidly.

The dog pushed its nose into his crotch, as dogs do. Bill pushed it away, as people do.

They walked through, and out of, the park. The dog was frisky, jumping about, but for a while it allowed itself to be lead. When they got to the street, however, it slowed up and started to drag behind, before wrenching Bill's arm round as it caught up with him and shoved its snout between his sweaty thighs. Bill nearly fell over. Angry, he grabbed its ears and looked it straight in the face, starting to say: "Cut it out …" but getting a face-full of drool instead as the disgusting creature licked him from chin to eyes.

"That is foul! Ew! You just licked your … I am not in the mood, Snuffles. You know why you're not supposed to be …" he looked up to make sure no-one had heard that. Dogs don't know _why _they're not supposed to do anything. "I mean, you know you're not allowed out. Don't lick me again!"

This time he ignored the disapproval of the surrounding Muggles as he dragged the mutt through the London streets on his belt. He carried the struggling creature up the steps at 12, Grimmauld Place and slammed the front door shut behind them.

The noise set off Mrs Black in her portrait but neither of them took any notice.

Sirius changed back into a man. A laughing man.

"What are you playing at?" Bill demanded angrily.

"Relax! I'm just bored and lonely," Sirius replied, undoing the buckle of the belt which was still round his neck.

"But Dumbledore said … no, leave it on, it suits you."

Sirius growled and wrapped the leather round Bill's neck instead.

"Can I get a glass of water?" Bill asked.

"Of course," Sirius replied. "You're in the Order, you don't need to ask. It's your HQ."

Bill removed the belt with one hand and his tie with the other as he walked into the dark, stuffy kitchen. He was calming down. He undid a couple of buttons while he _Accioed_ the glass and the water.

"I'm so hot!" he complained.

"Oh. Yes. You. Are." Sirius responded slowly.

Bill turned to see the older man leaning against the doorframe looking lean and intense and watching him intently. Black's dark eyes glittered in the low light. And they were focussed on Bill.

Bill laughed nervously. He looked into his glass. "I'll just finish this and I'll go," he gulped.

Sirius leaped across the kitchen and grabbed hold of Bill's forearm. "Don't go!" he begged, "I'll be good! You just got here and I spend so much time on my own! I'm sorry. I'll behave myself. I promise."

Bill looked down at the long, dirty fingernails digging into his shirt. He didn't dare look up at Black's face. He tried to picture Fleur's clean, soft hands. He said nothing.

Sirius let go, sat down in a chair, steadied his breathing. "I'm sorry," he said calmly, "I didn't mean to be so … I'm alone too much. I forget how to be with people. I need more practice." He looked down at his own hands. "Merlin! My fingernails are filthy."

Bill concentrated on his own breathing. If he was going to go straight, he was going to have to learn how to cope with this sort of situation, with these sorts of feelings. It was hardly Sirius' fault how Bill reacted.

"Warm weather for September," Bill ventured. Nice, safe topic of conversation, the weather. He sat down.


	2. Chapter 2 Let the Dog See the Rabbit

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Let the Dog See the Rabbit

"Warm weather for September," said Bill. He sat down.

Sirius wasn't sure how to respond. The weather? He was completely thrown by having the attractive Weasley boy in the kitchen with him at all. He was trying hard to act normal, to control his behaviour. But the lad didn't make it easy. His responses were so unpredictable. It had been too long.

Sirius tried laughing. He made himself wince, it sounded like a bark. "Indian Summer," he replied.

Well, if Bill was sitting, maybe he was staying. "There's something a bit tastier than water in the fridge if you're interested." It's only beer. Why was he trying to make it sound like nectar? Sirius waved his wand to open a small door, revealing cans of Muggle lager shining enticingly with condensation droplets. "I say fridge," he added, "but we both know it's just a charmed cupboard. Mother would never have had anything as Muggle as electrical equipment in the house. I'm thinking of asking Dung to get me a television. Partly to relieve the boredom, but mostly just to annoy her portrait."

Bill grinned. "I guess I can stay for one drink," he conceded. No eye contact, though, and he stopped the smile too quickly.

Sirius poured the drinks by hand, concentrating on the angle and the speed at which the liquid hit the glasses.

Looking fixedly at the cans on the table, Bill asked, "Who did you get the Stella from then?"

Sirius responded, trying to think things through quickly, "Best not say." That might be a complication. When he glanced up at Bill's face, he could tell he was working things out. His brain looked to be moving pretty quickly.

As he accepted his drink, Bill asked, "And how did the twins get hold of it?"

Underage, of course, Sirius shouldn't have been encouraging them to buy alcohol. He just barked a laugh, not confirming or denying anything.

Instead he remarked, "That's a strange costume you've got on. You wore that to work? Where do you work again?"

"Gringotts," Bill answered, "but I've been liasing with the equivalent Muggle bank this afternoon. Exchange rates, that sort of thing. It's called a suit. It's what they expect a banker to wear." He sighed and added, "Even in this heat."

"Do they expect the pony-tail and the earring as well?" Sirius asked, grinning. He liked the pirate look.

"You sound like my mother!" Bill replied.

Not that! Surely! Sirius didn't want to have anything in common with Molly Weasley, especially not where her son was concerned. He pulled a face. Then his eyes flicked down the young man's body.

"Those trousers look uncomfortable," he said.

Quickly - too quickly - Bill answered, "No, I'm fine!"

Without thinking, Sirius said, "Yes, very fine …" then he stopped himself, worried that he might be scaring him off again. To change the subject he asked hastily, "How's it going with the goblins?"

Bill just shook his head, saying, "They're a funny lot, goblins."

"Difficult to work with?"

"You get used to it. I was out in Egypt, code breaking in the tombs. That was cool. Came back 'cos of the situation. Stuck behind a desk now," he shrugged one shoulder, but he looked disgruntled. He wanted to be active and Dumbledore had him somewhere where he had to sit still, Sirius knew how that felt. A thousand-fold.

"Another beer?" he offered, seeing Bill's glass nearly empty.

"Why not?" The red-head asked. He was more relaxed now, leaning back in the chair. He kept talking as Sirius summoned a new can. "It's not all goblins at Gringotts. Some of the other people are OK." Bill looked up pointedly as he added, "My girlfriend works there, too."

Things started to make sense. "Oh, a girlfriend. I see." Sirius responded. He tried to sound serious, but allowed a glint of mischief round his mouth and eyes.

"She's French. Very young. Very sexy. Part Veela," Bill continued, a little too enthusiastically.

Sirius tried to hide his amusement, saying, "Not surprised, good-looking boy like you," and leaning over Bill to pick up the empty glass. He stood too close to the younger wizard to slowly, slowly fill it.

Bill looked up, straight into Black's chest, revealed by a barely buttoned shirt. His eyes moved downwards of their own accord until, with visible effort, he closed them.

"And is your _girlfriend_ …" Black emphasised the word with a dismissive, nasal sneer "… going to be joining The Order?"

"Don't know," Bill managed, hardly opening his mouth, looking like he regretted accepting that second drink.

The drink was ready, but Weasley still had his eyes shut, so Sirius quietly bent down until his face was just in front of Bill's. He gazed at the clear young skin, the tan, the spray of freckles round the long nose.

When Bill opened his eyes, he started with shock, his head snapping back.

"Drink's on the table," Sirius said simply.

Bill swallowed, nodded and Sirius sat in the seat next to him.

Glaring into the glass, Bill asked, "Why d'you do that?"

Instead of answering, the older man asked, "Couldn't bear to look at my ugly face?"

"Not exactly. I'd better go."

"Finish your drink first."

They drank in silence for a while, Sirius watching Bill, who kept his face turned firmly away.

"I expect you had lots of _girlfriends_ when you were at school, too?" Sirius eventually asked, in a low purr.

Bill ran his hands through his hair and stood up to admit, "No, she's my first." He strode to the other side of the table, trying to look casual, keeping his back to the other wizard.

"Frustrating teenage years?"

Bill shook his head.

"Thought not," Sirius chuckled.

"Plenty of action. No girls."

"Thought so."

"Trying to go straight," Bill confessed, before finally turning to look Sirius in the eye and adding, "but I'm a bit crap at it.

Sirius grinned broadly in reply. "Why?" he asked.

"Can't stop noticing men, just need more practice …" Bill started.

"No, why go straight?"

Bill sat on the other side of the table. He answered, "Just easier, isn't it? Easier for the family, too. And she is a lovely girl. I can actually see myself marrying her and having babies and the full works."

"So what's it like, doing it with a woman?" Sirius asked.

"You don't know?"

Black shook his head.

"Nor do I. She's old-fashioned. 'Saving herself'. Which doesn't help. I mean, we do stuff, but … not much ..." Bill trailed off.

"Then how can you know?"

Bill looked confused.

"That you'll be able to? With a woman?"

"It's all going to be fine. I've got to get home. Thanks for the drinks. I feel better, not as warm …" Bill was pushing his chair back, ready to leave.

Shouldn't have pushed it, Sirius thought, gone too far, out of practice. Don't want to be on my own. Don't want to blow this! Suddenly he found himself blurting out, "You know what would really cool you down?"

Bill stopped moving, asked suspiciously, "What?"

"A shower. There's one here. In the bathroom. Your HQ, remember."

"We have got a shower at The Burrow. It's not a complete hovel."

"You'd be more comfortable Apparating!" Sirius tried, desperately.

There was a silence. Bill was completely still, eyes narrowed warily.

Sirius exhaled, threw his head back, "You wouldn't believe how cool I used to be, how smooth, how good at this. Suave, they used to call me. Does anyone say 'suave' any more?"

"No," Bill grunted. He didn't ask 'good at what?'

"And I was good-looking then. Like you. I keep forgetting what I look like now. Cool and good-looking I was. Like you. Hard to believe, I expect, but you ask anyone, ask Remus or …" his eyes flicked around as though he were searching for something, he tried to think of another name, but then he sank his face into his hands. After an agitated moment he snarled, "No, there's nobody else left. And Remus …" Stop now. No point getting into that. It probably was best if the boy left now. Sirius was about to sink into one of his melancholies. And there was no point in his being here anyway, nothing was going to happen.

But Bill stayed. Silently.

To fill the silence, Sirius said, "I'm sorry. I keep forgetting how old I am. I'm ridiculous. You see, I lost a decade. More than that." He lifted his head to look down into his hands, splayed them as though he could see the lost time trickle between the fingers. He was aware that he was being odd, probably frightening the Weasley lad. He tried to pull his thoughts together, to remember how to behave normally.

He wasn't sure if he was being normal, but at least he was being honest when he said, "I was going to ask - but it's ridiculous, you'll think I'm just a … I was going to ask if I could watch. All those years in Azkaban, then on the run and now in hiding … it's been a long time since I saw anyone … a handsome naked young man … it just … but I forgot how old I am. I'm a dirty old pervert."

The chair legs squeaked on the floor-tiles as Bill stood up. Leaving, of course. Running away. Who wouldn't? Sirius kept his gaze on the table top.

At the door, Bill said, "I'm going up for a shower. I won't lock the door."


	3. Chapter 3 Puppy Dog Tails

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Puppy-Dog Tails

Bill couldn't bear it any more. Black was breaking up in front of his eyes. He couldn't, didn't want to, imagine losing everyone the way Sirius had; he couldn't begin to comprehend how it might feel to have spent that many years in Azkaban. And then to be shut up in this grim house all day every day …

In context, it really wasn't all that much to ask: for Bill to shower in front of him. If Bill was having trouble going straight and happened to find that gaunt smouldering intensity a turn-on, that was hardly Sirius' problem, was it? It was Bill who needed to deal with it. He had to practice being tempted and resisting. How could he propose to Fleur unless he was sure he'd be able to be a faithful husband to her?

So Bill stood up and walked to the kitchen door, saying, "I'm going up for a shower. I won't lock the door."

Sirius didn't move, just sat still staring at his own grimy hands. It was up to him now, his decision. Bill wasn't provoking anything, he'd just left things open. Hadn't he? In defiance of the two cans of Stella, his mouth was dry again. He mounted the window-less stairwell, pulling up each heavy, trembling leg one step at a time.

"Foul creature of filth!"

Bill missed a step. His blood ran cold. His breath stopped. And then he realised that it was just the familiar rantings of Mrs Black's portrait.

"Blood Traitor! Infecting the pure house of Black!"

Just a Blood Traitor. That's all she was accusing him of being. And Bill had been brought up to be proud of that description.

"Despicable, disdained swine plotting against Magical Purity!"

Yeah, whatever. Bill's pulse slowed to an almost normal pace. His hatred for the old witch gave his legs energy. She'd made her son's youth wretched and now he was a grown man, Bill had a way to cheer him up. A way of which she would certainly not have approved.

At the top of the first flight of stairs he was faced with a series of doors. He knew which one lead to the sitting room. He opened another, releasing clouds of dust and foul odour from a cupboard. The next room was the shabby, lifeless study containing the venomous family tree. It exuded hate and Bill wasn't surprised that this room seemed unused.

He struck lucky with his next attempt. The bathroom fittings were old-fashioned and could have been cleaner, but the marble and moist air made it the most comfortable place he'd yet been in this stuffy house. It smelled pleasantly of soap. The end wall was mostly taken up by a window of frosted glass, which filled the room with light.

Opposite it, next to the door, was a large gilt-framed mirror. Bill examined himself. His face was blotchy red and shiny with sweat, his hair was unravelling from its ponytail and sticking to his skin in strings. How could anyone in their right mind fancy that?

The shower was the most spectacular thing in the room. It looked like it was probably Edwardian and hung like a large, upturned silver bowl over a free-standing, roll-topped, black bath. There was no shower curtain or screen, but escaping water was probably repelled by some charm.

After taking off his socks and shoes, Bill undid the buttons on his trousers and dropped them to the floor. Sirius was right about them, they were heavy and the waistband was too stiff for comfort. They left a red line round his middle. The skin on his tummy was getting pale. Soon it would be impossible to tell that he'd ever lived in Africa.

It was ridiculous getting this over-heated here, when he'd been used to Egypt. Was it because the clothes suited the weather better there? Of course all the Wizard buildings used Cooling Charms, the Muggle ones had air conditioning and the tombs were made of thick, cold stone, but he remembered being pole-axed by ferocious dry heat the first time he'd walked outdoors. He'd been enjoying regular sex then, too. Perhaps that had helped.

He pulled his shirt over his head. It stank of sweat. So did he. There were lots of good reasons for him to have a shower. He turned round the lever and steaming hot water gushed down. Too hot. He adjusted it down.

Then there was the sound of a footfall. Sirius was coming up the stairs and in a moment he'd see Bill in his underwear. Bill froze as his stomach dropped. How the hell did he get here? Semi-naked in somebody else's bathroom? How stupid was he? This wasn't an easy way to cheer someone up. It was a bloody difficult way to test his own resolve.

His back to the door, Bill stared towards the window. A floorboard creaked behind him and then a shadow fell across the pane. Sirius was standing in front of the mirror, blocking the light reflected back onto the glass. For several minutes there was stillness and silence apart from the patter of water on enamel.

Bill couldn't stop it now, there was no way to get out. Sirius was standing far too near. The darker patch on the window didn't move. Neither of them spoke. What would Fleur say if she could see him now? What would his mother say? How scathing could his brothers be if they knew?

Bill pulled the band out, letting his hair fall straight to his shoulders. He knew he should take off his boxer shorts, but he felt so exposed already and he needed to get that hardening under control before Sirius got the wrong idea. The wrong idea? He turned the temperature lever of the shower right down.

He stepped over the side of the bath tub and into the stream of cool water. His skin shrank from it in goose-bumps. Needles of cold pounded onto the top of his head. His focus suddenly had hard edges. All he had to do was shower, get dressed and go home. Then Sirius could have something to think about when he wanked. Hopefully that would be enough to keep him occupied for a while, which would keep him safe indoors where Dumbledore wanted him. Bill was doing this for The Order.

That calm, clear train of thought gave Bill the strength to open his eyes. Merlin, he was cold now! He turned up the heat a bit and shuffled his feet round, turned himself to face the man in front of the mirror.

Sirius' face was tense. His hands gripped the gilt frame; his shoulders leaned forward, every muscle taut. They stared into each other's eyes. Sirius had his lips pressed together, his teeth clamped shut. His breathing was audible. Then the older man closed his eyes, swallowed and forced out the one word: "Please."

Bill swiped bedraggled, wet hair from his face. Please?

Sirius looked at him again, then down to his crotch. Bill followed his gaze. The soaked grey cotton of his Calvins clung to his thighs, and to the bulge which shouldn't have been there.

"Please," Sirius hissed again.

Bill's hands trembled. Then, watching only the water eddying around his feet, he took hold of the elastic at his hips and pulled downwards.

He couldn't stop it now, there was no way to get out, Sirius was standing far too near. How the hell did Bill get here? Semi-erect, naked and in somebody else's bathroom?

* * *

Author's Note: Some of the phrases in this chapter quote (and mis-quote) from the song _Underwear_ on Pulp's album, **Different Class **(written by Cocker, Banks, Mackey, Senior, Doyle).


	4. Chapter 4 Hunting With Hounds

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Hunting With Hounds

After Sirius got his mother's portrait back under cover the silence was intense. He stood still, waiting for the sound of running water which did not come. Of course. The lad had backed out. It was a ruse to escape. How could something that lovely possibly be true? Good things didn't happen to Sirius any more.

He had to stop being mad in front of people. They didn't like it. And then they had to run away and maybe they'd promise something, get his hopes up, humour the lunatic, to make good that escape.

But perhaps …

No point in not even looking in the bathroom. All senses alert, Sirius climbed his parents' stairs.

The door was open. As his eye-line rose above the level of the landing, he saw shoes on the threshold. He froze, unable to believe his luck. Then came the sound he'd been expecting: the steady gush of water. When he moved again every muscle was taut.

With soft steps he crossed the landing, feeling like he did when Snuffles hunted rabbits. He advanced carefully, quietly, smoothly, to avoid spooking his prey. His prey? He was only going to watch.

Light poured in through the window, bouncing off the mirror and the marble and all of it seemed to land on the long, sculpted, lightly freckled bare back of the man standing still in the centre of the room. His thighs were thick with muscle. His fore-arms were toffee brown, the upper arms paler. His body hair was such a light, golden ginger that it was barely discernable. In the sunlight it created an aura outlining his shape. His arse was … covered up. Well, never mind.

The tiled floor cooled his bare feet as Sirius moved left to stand in front of the mirror. He said nothing, not knowing what to say, afraid that anything as unexpected, undeserved, desired, as this moment, could easily be lost with a wrong word. As was often the case with the rabbits, his quarry was also still and silent. Sirius held position. He could do that for hours if he needed to.

Bill moved first. He raised his hands to his head. The skin was young and his arms displayed the co-ordinated grace of a Quidditch player. The freed hair spread down to his shoulders, as red and glossy as a pepper. Bill leaned forward, causing his tight buttocks to brush against the grey marl cotton covering them. Sirius leaned back against the mirror, forcing his over-heated torso against the glass. Why couldn't there be perfection? Why didn't he take everything off? Then Bill straightened up and stepped into the water.

As the liquid hit him, Bill gasped. Sirius closed his eyes as his imagination supplied a dozen ways in which he could force that sound from Bill's lips. His erection strained against the fabric of his jeans. He clenched his hands on the gilt frame, trying to anchor himself to the wall.

Sirius concentrated on the smell of soap until he could safely open his eyes again. Sunlight played with the droplets spraying out from Bill's almost naked body. Water ran down him and bounced of him, dripped from the hem of his underpants, splashed into the bath. His flawless skin had puckered under it. There was no steam.

Sirius could hear Bill's breathing slowing, deepening. His own grated: too fast, too rough. Bill adjusted the temperature lever. At the slowed-down pace of a dream he turned round.

They made eye contact. The air in the space between them solidified. Sirius tried to take control of the feelings sweeping through him, kept his hands connected to the mirror, but his shoulders pulled his body forward, forcing him in the same direction as his cock was pointing.

Watching wasn't enough, Sirius' every nerve-ending sang with the need to touch and taste. He pushed his tongue onto the roof of his mouth to keep it contained. He had to close his eyes again. On the back of his lids was a vision of Bill completely naked. Sirius needed to see that. He swallowed and then pushed the word "Please" past the constriction in his throat.

He pushed open his eyelids. His target was immobile again, droplets fell the length of his nose. Sirius swept his gaze down Bill's chest, tracing the path of darkening hair leading into the place he wanted to see the most.

"Please," Sirius hissed again.

This time the soaked fabric was peeled slowly away from Bill's hips. Sirius never saw it fall, his vision narrowed to one area of bare flesh. His focus was pulled towards Bill's prick. The flesh grew under his gaze. He tracked in to stare at the red, rounded head. He had covered half the distance between them before he realised that it was not just his eyes that were honing in. He had let go of the mirror frame and walked without any awareness of having done so.

With a huge effort of will, he stopped moving. He closed his mouth again, clamping the teeth to each other. There was no way he could stop the panting, though. The rough denim was unbearable against the end of his swollen penis. His hand moved over to rub the bulge. He heard himself groan like a school boy.

Bill was watching him, his own hand fluttering with indecision. His eyes glittered, unblinking. He was fully erect now, the engorged flesh bobbing under the water pressure. He pressed his hovering hand onto the white skin at the top of his thigh. His fingernails dug in.

Sirius exhaled forcefully. He unbuttoned with difficulty and unzipped carefully to release his cock into his hand. Bill growled and gripped his own shaft, his arm pumping up and down in time with Sirius'.

Sirius could imagine how different it would feel if the hot flesh in his hand was the other man's. The skin on the back of his hand suddenly crawled with an understanding of how Bill's hot cum would splash over it.

"Your clothes," Bill was grunting and Sirius realized that he was standing at the edge of the bath tub, preparing to climb into it. He shoved his jeans down as Bill ripped off his shirt, losing the two remaining buttons on it. And then Sirius surged forward into the water. The temperature of it slowed him. It was barely tepid. He reached round Bill to turn the lever to warm, brushing against cold skin.

There was a moment when they stared into each others eyes and panted. Then they were pressing their wet bodies together, holding each other's cocks and giving in to the temptation of rhythmic movement.


	5. Chapter 5 PuppyDog Eyes

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Puppy-Dog Eyes

Bill tried to concentrate on the patterns of sunlight, the sensation of the water, the discoloured grout between the big, square, black and white floor tiles. But his eyes were drawn to the man on the other side of the room whose tangled, dark hair threw the angular face into intriguing shadow, deepening the hollows in his cheeks. His gaze was fixed, intently, on Bill's body; his breathing was jagged; his cracked lips were wet; .

One pale, thin hand moved, disrupting Sirius' taut stillness. It flew to the front of his trousers, making Bill arousingly aware of the swelling there. The silence was broken by an animal noise that pulled at Bill somewhere deep within. His body wanted to respond, to mirror Black's action. He couldn't allow himself. It must still be possible to salvage some dignity, some virtue from this situation. He could still get dressed and go home. He imposed columns of figures onto his mind, forced his hand to push into his thigh to avoid his erection.

Sirius breathed out loudly. The sound made the numbers Disapparate. Bill felt as though he was breathing in Sirius' expelled air. It made him dizzy. And then the dark man moved again. Bill saw the faded denim framing the white skin, which surrounded the dark hair, but all he was aware of was the darkened flesh gripped by the white hand. And the hand moved.

The situation could no longer be salvaged. Being sensible or being virtuous were no longer options. Bill grasped his own shaft firmly and jerked his wrist up and down as fast and as hard as it would go.

Bill's eyelids closed, but not for long. He needed to drink in the image of Sirius near demented by lust. If he was going to sin, he wanted to sin properly; he wanted to regret perfection. Sirius was still clothed. Bill wanted to see every rib, every single jutting bone, every dark hair, every inch of sun-deprived skin.

When he opened his eyes again, Sirius seemed to be standing much closer than he had been before, as close as he had been when Bill had opened his eyes in the kitchen. But Bill didn't trust his own senses any more.

"Your clothes," Bill pleaded. He couldn't be the only naked one any more, it wasn't fair. He snatched at the faded rag of a shirt and was briefly surprised that its texture was silk. He tore it away.

Did time slow down or did Sirius really stand still? Then Bill felt a hot hand against him before everything heated up. He stared into those mesmerising deep eyes. Thought was fading rapidly. All he was certain of was the warmth of a body against his and the old feeling of another's cock in his hand, his cock in another's hand. His body knew what to do. He had no control any more.

Time passed, how much could not be judged. There was a sound, words that might have meant something, but Bill was beyond simple brain function, then the other body collapsed in noise and sticky heat. As they both slipped and landed on the bottom of the bath, he realised than Sirius must have climaxed. Bill lay trapped underneath him with warm water pouring into his eyes and mouth. He reached up to turn off the shower, but was not quite able to reach.

Instead he closed his eyes and mouth and wrapped the arm tight round the other man while he recovered. His shoulders and upper arms were surprisingly muscular. He was more wiry, less skinny than Bill had been imagining. Not that he should have been spending the last couple of months imagining Sirius naked. No wonder he'd ended up here.

Sirius swore and, waving a vague hand upwards, croaked, "_Finite._" The water stopped. Why hadn't Bill thought of that?

Sirius raised himself up on his arms and began speaking: "That was … it … I … Merlin!" was all he managed before bringing his mouth down onto Bill's for a gentle kiss.

Gentle was no good to Bill, though. He thrust his tongue energetically into the welcoming warm wetness. His aroused cock pressed into thigh muscle.

Sirius broke the kiss, causing a guttural noise of frustration in Bill's throat. Sirius crawled his way down Bill's body until the end of the bath stopped him. He swore again. Then he stood up, pulled at Bill's arms, summoned a towel onto the floor and dragged them both out of the bath and onto it.

Bill looked down his body to see Sirius' head hovering over his groin. Bill had been in this position enough times before to think he knew what was coming next. Thank Merlin! He was right. He felt his prick being surrounded by Sirius' mouth and surrendered again to pure sensation. Unconsciously, his fingers played over the sculpture of Sirius' face, along sharp cheekbones, into the cheeks below - even more hollowed out than usual.

After one of the most intense orgasms of his life, Bill lay still, breathing deeply, shivering with a mixture of over-wrought nerves and exposed, wet skin. Sirius came back for another gentle kiss and this time it was just right. Fingers ran through Bill's wet hair.

Bill stopped kissing and sat up. He had to pull himself together. How had he allowed that to happen? He needed to report back to Gringott's. Was it too late? What the hell time was it anyway? How long had he been here? His mother was expecting him home for supper. He was seeing Fleur later. And what on earth was it that had happened at The Bank of England that he was meant to be reporting back on?

Bill cast a drying charm on himself and then remembered to cast one on Sirius, too. He summoned his clothes and dressed. His tie and jacket must still be in the kitchen, he'd need them.

He ruffled a hand half-heartedly through Sirius' dank tangle of hair. The other man was looking at him strangely, eyes wide as though he were scared of something, but the rest of his face expressionless.

"Best be off then," Bill said.

"Was that OK?" Sirius asked. "Are you OK?"

"That was great. I mean, thanks, yeah. I enjoyed it. I'm expected, though. Somewhere else." Where depended on what time it was.

"See you!" There was an inflection in Black's delivery that might have made it a question.

"Sure. Order meeting on Friday. See you then." Bill walked to the bathroom door, then turned back.

Sirius sat cross-legged, still naked, on the once-white towel. His eyes were huge and focussed on the doorway.

"Don't tell anyone, will you?" Bill checked.

Sirius dropped his gaze and shook his head.

Bill hurried down the stairs.


	6. Chapter 6 Barking Mad

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Barking Mad

Sirius spent the next day tidying. He woke up hung-over on dirty sheets and noticed the disorder his bedroom had fallen into. After Bill had left, he'd spent a few hours as a dog to try and stop himself from thinking, and a few more with a knock-off bottle of vodka from the batch he was supposed to be hiding for Mundungus. The vodka was the more effective of the two. But being an Animagus didn't make him throw up the next day.

When he raised his head from the toilet seat, he had seen the shower and the next thing he knew he was in the bath tub, stroking the enamel. He lay there for a while recalling the texture of wet skin, before the headache got too much and he went down to the kitchen for a Cure.

He sat down to swallow it, knowing full well that he'd chosen the chair Bill had sat in to drink his lager. It was pathetic. It wasn't like he was a teenage girl with a crush. It was just that he'd been so lonely. And he was sick of staying in this hated house where nothing ever happened. He missed Harry and his friends now that they were back at school. There was so much that needed to be done to stop Voldemort and it was frustrating to be the one Order member unable to do any of it.

It was all starting to drive him mad. No, the murders had started the process, Azkaban had intensified it and this was just sending him deeper inside his sick mind. Obviously nobody was going to want to stick around to witness that.

He wasn't going to obsess about what had happened with Bill. He would just be grateful. It had been fun. That was it. Be happy. But he kept glancing to the fireplace nonetheless. Not that there would be a Floo Call.

He didn't trust Kreacher to make him coffee, but while he drank the dark sludge he had brewed himself, he barked for the House Elf to come and receive orders.

With exaggerated stiffness, Kreacher climbed out of his cupboard, muttering "Master Sirius is shouting at poor Kreacher even though they are in the same room. He looks very sick and it serves him right for drinking that nasty Muggle liquor last night …"

"Shut up, Kreacher!"

The bat-eared Elf had no choice but to be silent, though his resentment was clear on his face.

"Now, Kreacher. I need clean bed linen, the windows in my bedroom need washing and when I've sorted out the stuff I've been keeping on the floor you can dust and brush up and whatever. Got it?"

Kreacher nodded and Apparated upstairs.

Sirius checked the front door - for no reason - before going up to the bedroom himself and spending most of the morning there. Not that anyone other than himself was ever going to be going in that room. He interrupted himself a couple of times an hour, to just nip downstairs, because he might not have heard a visitor coming in from the top floor. Not that he was expecting one. Or an owl. Or a Floo Call.

On the way past, he became aware of the smell coming from Buckbeak's room and tore a strip off Kreacher, sending him in to muck out and change the straw.

"Kreacher thinks he should be cleaning the bathroom. He heard lewd acts, dirty acts, should be scrubbing away the Master's…"

"I've given you an order! Get on with it! You worthless lump of rags!"

And Kreacher sloped along the landing.

By midday Sirius had imposed some organisation on his possessions. He looked around the room. Better. Then he looked at his own reflection in the big mirror on the front of the wardrobe. Grey, sickly, skinny and mad. He could do with a new look.

"Kreacher! I'm having salad for lunch. And I want some kind of wholesome stew with vegetables and meat in it for supper. You might as well make enough for two."

"Is Master expecting a guest?" Kreacher asked, narrowing his protruding eyes with disgust.

"Just do what you're told!" Sirius snapped, throwing a heavy book at his Elf who Apparated away with a loud crack before it could hit him. Sirius picked the tome up and placed it carefully on his bed-side table to make it look like he filled his time productively with study. To anyone who might happen to make it into the bedroom. Which nobody ever would.

After lunch, while Kreacher shampooed his carpet and dusted the furniture, Sirius had a long bath. A particular spot on the floor held his attention, the place where Bill had lain on the towel (which was hidden under his bed), where Sirius had tasted him. He had tasted wet and clean, but underlying that was the salty metallic taste of cock and the sharp smell of testosterone.

Sirius brushed and trimmed his nails, washed his hair and scrubbed at his grimy skin.

He ate his healthy supper, spent some time telling Buckbeak how happy he was and had an early night.

He spent the next day in bed. These days were the reason why he hadn't put on any weight since escaping prison. He spent nights in near-catatonic depression, too, but at least then he could kid himself that he was trying to get to sleep.

Kreacher left him alone, only twice wandering past the door muttering about blood traitors and lechery. Sirius neither ate nor drank. He just lay still and felt sorry for himself. On the occasions when his bladder forced him down to the bathroom, he stared fixedly into the toilet bowl and avoided seeing anything else in the room.

As evening began to fall beyond his curtains, he thought he heard a voice say: "Hello you." But it was the same voice that had been in his head for two days, so he ignored it.

"Do you mind if I come in?" it asked.

Sirius looked over to the open door and wasn't sure whether he was hallucinating.

"It's your HQ. Go where you like," he replied out loud.

"For Salazar's sake, Sirius, it's your bedroom! I don't know if I'm welcome. Would you rather I went away?"

He sat up in the bed, with a terrible fear squeezing his chest and looked properly at the man on the gloomy landing, the tall man with the perfect hair and the broad shoulders, the man he'd been hoping for and not expecting.

"Please come in and make yourself at home, Bill," he greeted, summoning the phrase from the etiquette lessons of his distant childhood.


	7. Chapter 7 With His Tail Between His Legs

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

With His Tail Between His Legs

Sitting up in bed, looking at him, Sirius said, "Please come in and make yourself at home, Bill."

Sirius looked perfect. He was exactly how Bill kept picturing him: a pale sculpture accentuated by touches of darkness - black hair and stubble, shadowed eyes. He looked like an angel who'd just spent a night sleeping rough. This was the vision that had been getting in the way of everything for days. Better even, the hair soft and clean, the gloomy room the perfect setting.

Bill had been trying to be good. He had plenty of work to do at the Bank with spying and coercing for Dumbledore on top of that. For months it had been an effortless undertaking, leaving plenty of time, energy and concentration to spend flirting with Fleur and catching up with friends and family.

But since his last visit to Grimmauld Place, it had all become impossible. He lost count when working on the simplest calculation, he kept forgetting where he was in the code sequences. Every time he saw Fleur he had to remember who she was all over again. There was an Order meeting tomorrow night and he was supposed to be reporting progress to Dumbledore. One more day to get something definite out of Rignaff. And he'd been so close at the beginning of the week.

Thoughts of Sirius were impossible to ignore. He'd tried very hard. Their tumble had been powerfully erotically torrid, like nothing Bill had done for years. Actually, not exactly like anything he had ever done. When the memory of it broke in and distracted him, he was filled with the old thrill he'd had from groping behind the Greenhouse as a schoolboy. Even his encounters with Egyptian lads in back alleys had been calmly ordered in comparison.

He reasoned with himself that this was because it was illicit. That was bound to be exciting, but it also made it a very bad idea. He was too old to be getting off on breaking rules. It took him longer to admit that it was also about Sirius.

He'd been dismissive of the HQ building at his first Order meeting. It was such a clichéè. This wasn't what the Magical community was about any more - this was like the Haunted House ride on the pier. When Sirius had slouched in looking gaunt, highly strung and interesting, the house had made sense. It was the perfect backdrop to him. He had sulked and snarled through the whole meeting, while Dumbledore urged and berated. Bill had watched the passions crossing the handsome stranger's face and had almost changed his mind.

He'd known when he made the decision to come back to the UK that he was either going to have to come out to his parents, or change his life-style. His mother wanted grandchildren. He had decided that it was time to settle down and give everyone what they wanted.

It had all been going so well until he'd found himself alone with this man and now he was obsessed. He couldn't keep away any longer. It could still work. After all, Bill was a spy. He wasn't much use to the Order if he couldn't even manage a simple affair. A bit on the side.

So, that was the new plan. He'd sent his mother an OWL from work, telling her he would be out with Fleur; he'd told Fleur that he had to get straight home tonight because his parents needed to see him. He'd Apparated from Gringott's into a side road near Grimmauld Place.

The Muggles at the bus stop were sheltering under hoods and umbrellas, a toddler battled her father over keeping the rain cover over the pushchair, a cat slipped on a railing and the wet tarmac road reflected the street lights back at themselves. It was hard to believe that it had been sunny a few days ago.

Bill tried to snuggle into his collar, but it did nothing to prevent his hair slicking to his skin and dripping into his mouth. It reminded him of being in the shower, making it uncomfortable and arousing at the same time.

It was only as he crossed the square towards the only house where the lights were off, that he began to doubt the reception he would receive. He recalled how he had left. He'd been thinking about it for days, but his response to the image of a wet, naked Sirius sitting cross-legged on a towel had been dominated by the fact of Sirius' nudity. Now he remembered the look on his face.

Number Twelve was silent and dark. Bill was careful to be quiet as he entered and performed a drying charm. He didn't want to wake the portrait again. There was nobody in the kitchen. Had Sirius gone out again? He was worried now. If Sirius really had been upset about the way Bill had left him - and Bill acknowledged now that he'd been crass - would that have made him go out? Was he going to be captured or killed? Would it be Bill's fault?

Anxiously Bill mounted the stairs. As he checked the rooms on the first floor he tried to work out what he was going to say when he saw the object of his desire in the flesh again. Not knowing what reaction he was going to get made that difficult.

He stood still in the bathroom as erotic intensity swept over him again. It was soured by his panic at being unable to find its cause and the fear that he had done something stupid.

His eyesight was accustomed to the gloom by the time he made it to the top floor. When he saw the figure lying on the bed, the best his brain could come up with was: "Hello you." There was no sound, no movement in reply. He nearly ran away. Instead he let the relief and the terror and the rush of desire settle down before checking, "Do you mind if I come in?"

The man in the bed did no more than move his head before coolly answering, "It's your HQ. Go where you like."

The tension was too much and Bill lost his Weasley temper, snapping, "For Salazar's sake, Sirius, it's your bedroom!" He didn't want to blow this. He didn't know how he'd cope if he never touched Sirius again. He added, as calmly as he could, "I don't know if I'm welcome. Would you rather I went away?" He hoped hard for the answer he wanted.

Thankfully Sirius finally responded to that, sitting up and inviting him in. Bill took a few tentative steps into the room. He'd run out of things to say. What he wanted to know now was whether he could kiss Sirius, whether he could run his hands over his body. Who was he kidding? He wanted to know if they would fuck.

Sirius just sat and stared at him like a statue. He was wearing faded blue pyjamas. Bill's brain took off on a tangent, wondering if they were silk like that shirt he'd ripped off him in the bathroom …

"Is it Friday already?" Sirius finally asked. Bill couldn't tell if he was being acid or genuinely confused. After all, he was in bed at five thirty. He could have lost track of the time.

"Er, no," Bill stammered.

"Why are you here?" Sirius asked then, as Bill swallowed and tried to marshal his thoughts again.

"To see you." Non-committal, more difficult to reject than a declaration of lust.

"To see me what?"

What was the answer to that? To see you bobbing up and down in my groin again? To see you stripped and begging for it? To see if you'll forgive me?

"I like to see you, you're a nice thing to see and I like seeing nice things," Bill offered.

Sirius smiled. "Well, it's good to see you too. Why don't you take your coat off so I can see you properly?"

Grateful for something to do, Bill slid his trench coat off his shoulders and moved forward to drape it over the end of the bed. "You tired?" he asked.

"Nothing to do," Sirius answered with a shrug.

"That sucks," Bill sympathised. Then he saw the opening, "You want to do something now?" Not seductive wording, he tried again, "I can think of a few things that might keep you occupied!" He attempted a leer, but he wasn't really relaxed enough to pull it off.


	8. Chapter 8 Dog Breath

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Dog Breath

Before Azkaban, Sirius had been pretty hip. But that was back when people still said 'hip'. That was back when The Boomtown Rats sang "She's so nineteen seventies" and it meant the same as "She's so modern". Pretty soon even the line "She's so twentieth century" would meant 'she's out of date.'

His mother wouldn't let him have anything as Muggle as a record player, so he'd kept all his Punk and New Wave LPs at the Potters' place. A few months ago, the first time he'd walked back into this bedroom, he'd found a mess of melted black vinyl in the middle of the floor.

Mr Potter had been pretty frail after the Death Eaters had murdered his wife and at Sirius' trial it had been announced that his son's death had killed him. He must have used the last of his strength to break through the Grimmauld Place wards and send Sirius that message of hate.

He had liked James' parents a lot. The old man had even taken to calling him 'son', unlike his own father who referred to him as 'betrayer of my blood' or, less articulately, 'that little shit'. But, like everyone else, Mr Potter had believed Sirius capable of betraying James to his death. And murdering Peter. Well, he was sure as shit capable of murdering Peter now.

'Sure as shit': the twins had used that phrase over the summer and Sirius had liked it. Most modern slang confused him, though. For instance, here was Bill saying "that sucks" like sucking was a bad thing. Sirius thought sucking was a pretty good thing. Especially in the context of Bill. It could be a very good thing.

Bill had brought the scent of rain-washed evening air in with him. Sirius was aware of being fusty and unwashed.

"I need to brush my teeth," he said. He could also do with a couple of minutes to himself to try and shake off the grey mist of depression still hampering his thinking.

"No!" Bill said sharply. Apologetically he added, "I don't want to taste toothpaste, I want to taste …" he trailed off looking anxious.

Tasting? Did he mean kissing? Sirius reached over the bed to get the wand he'd left on the table on the other side, but Bill grabbed his arm and held him still. Then he passed him his own wand.

Muttering thanks, Sirius pointed the wand to his mouth and performed the cleansing spell. He felt better for it. They were both sitting on the bed now, sitting close, watching each other's faces. Sirius remembered a game from school. He grinned. Why not?

He opened his mouth wider, brought the wand closer and licked the tip. Bill looked horrified. Sirius chuckled at him.

"What's the matter? Mummy tell you never to put a wand in your mouth?" Sirius asked, taunting.

"It's risky," Bill said.

"And you never do anything Mummy wouldn't approve of?" Sirius mocked.

He stuck out his tongue and ran it the full length of Bill's wand. Bill was fixated. Sirius put his mouth over the wood and closed his lips around it. He pushed it further in, watching Bill's lovely hazel eyes grow huge. He sucked in a few inched and then slowly pulled them out again. The worry creasing Bill's forehead made him smirk.

As he removed the wand-tip, Bill leaned in and pressed his own tongue onto it. He wrapped it round and Sirius got his own tongue out again to lick Bill's. They played with the wand and each others' tongues, twisting the muscles, caressing each other and the wood, saliva dripping down to Sirius' hand.

Suddenly the wand juddered. They both sprang back, each with a little scream. They quickly recovered and started laughing. Bill picked up the wand from where it had fallen and turned back to return it to his coat pocket. The movement exposed the pale stretch of his neck from collar to ear and the pulled-back strands of hair leading to the ponytail.

Sirius lunged to get his mouth to it. He held Bill by the shoulder and sank down onto the warm, soft flesh. He gently kissed, licked and sniffed, careful not to make a mark. He didn't think he'd be forgiven if he left evidence.

He snaked his other hand round Bill's waist, as the young man turned back to him, getting his hands under Sirius' pyjama top, stroking the bare skin of his back. Sirius heard himself moan and, as though that were the trigger he'd been waiting for, Bill twisted down and pushed their mouths together.

As their tongues danced against each other again, Sirius found himself pushed down hard onto the bed. Bill lay on top of him, his full weight on Sirius' chest, making him pant for breath. Bill thrashed about, uncontrolled, pulling at the pyjama fabric held in place by his own weight.

At first Sirius struggled, trying to breathe, trying to move Bill to his own rhythms, to direct the action. But it didn't take long before the thrusting of tongue and hips swamped him with arousal and he relaxed, his body following the other body's movements, letting them fit together.

Bill grunted in frustration and Sirius felt the noise reverberating through both their ribcages. Their feet were tangled in the sheets, Sirius' hair strewn across both their faces and in between both of them were still fully dressed. Sirius slid his mouth sharply sideways to break the kiss and then shoved Bill's head up off him.

Bill panted, his eyes heavy lidded and unfocussed.

"Clothes. Off," Sirius barked.

Bill nodded, but it took a moment for his hands and pelvis to stop jerking around and another moment before he rolled off Sirius onto his side. Now that he could get his hands to their clothes, Sirius stripped them both, first their top halves and then Bill's suit trousers. Bill grabbed the waistband of the pyjamas and tugged them down, running his hands first over the jutting hip-bones and then the engorged penis.

Sirius stroked Bill's hair, hoping, nudging his head gently. Instead of taking the hint, Bill moved back up the bed, sliding their now naked bodies against each other, coming up for another kiss.

This kiss was slightly less desperate than the previous one, but it was still harsh and demanding. Sirius gazed at what he could of Bill's face, at the freckled patches moving in and out of view. Bill's eyes were closed. His hands were running all over Sirius' torso in a continuous, fast, rough movement. Sirius reached round Bill's head to pull out the elastic band and free his long hair. Loose, it fell over their cheeks and red and black tangled together as Sirius got his hands through the tickly softness onto the warmth of scalp.

The movement slowed slightly, settling into a steady rhythm of jaw and hip thrusts, Bill's grip grew firmer. He moved one hand to a nipple and let it rest there, teasing and rubbing. Sirius slid a hand down from Bill's head to mirror the movements. Bill's other hand came up their mouths and he slipped a finger into the kiss before bringing it down Sirius' back and, in one movement, rolling their bodies slightly, pushing his knee between Sirius' thighs and slipping the hand between his buttocks.

Sirius froze.

He gripped the errant hand. Hard.

He took hold of Bill's jaw. Firmly.

He glared at him.

"I don't receive," he growled.

Bill looked shocked, then confused. He pushed Sirius' hand off his face.

"What?" he asked.

"I'm not passive. Or flexible," Sirius explained, clearly. He was calming down now. Of course Bill didn't know Sirius' preferences. There must be an etiquette for this, they probably should have sorted it out earlier.

Bill snatched his hand out of Sirius' grip, flexed the fingers, looked at them, then back into Sirius' face.

"You don't bottom?" he checked.

"Right!"

"Not even for me?" Bill wheedled.

"Not even for you, gorgeous."

Bill puffed, annoyed. "Well that makes two of us!" he said.

They remained nose to nose, glaring, daring each other for several seconds until they were both convinced that the other wasn't going to back down.

"So… Oral?" Sirius asked.

"Yeah. Great. Oral," Bill agreed.


	9. Chapter 9 A Dog's Dinner

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

For Translucencyforsummertime and La Nuit.

A Dog's Dinner

Not fair. Half of the fantasies that had been clogging Bill's brain up had involved Sirius on all-fours or bent over a piece of furniture. Stupid assumption. Based mostly on hope. Partly on Bill's usual taste in wizards. But he'd known full bloody well that Sirius wasn't like anyone else.

Not fair, but fantastic anyway, because the other half of the fantasies had been this shape: sixty-nine shaped; like the zodiac symbol for Cancer; a yin and yang with legs sticking out; like two men curled round each other, heads in each other's laps.

Bill sucked hard, tasting, licking, running his tongue over and round, pulling pleasured moans from deep inside Sirius. And could feel the vibrations of those sounds on his own cock, deep in the warm, wet cave of the other man's mouth. Bill's left fingers caressed testicles, his right hand pulsed squeezes round the shaft.

When Sirius' hips began bucking into him, he pulled his mouth off, slowed the pace, delivered teasing licks to the glossy head, sipping at salty stickiness. Then for a moment he froze, rendered immobile by the sensations created along the length of his own member. With a frustrated grunt, Sirius pushed himself against Bill's jaw, Bill opened his mouth and filled it, clamped his tongue round and moved his head up and down. Fast.

He felt the warning twitches and held the prick in place, then swallowed the thick, savoury cream. Briefly, they were both still before Sirius started working on Bill's pleasure again. A few minutes later the familiar heat rose in Bill's body, centred itself in his groin and exploded.

Bill couldn't work out which way was up or where anything was. He rolled his head and saw skin and cotton. He mustered the energy to push himself up on his arms and locate Sirius' chest. Once he'd found it he twisted and crawled to lay his head on it and throw an arm over. He thought about pulling the sheet up to cover them both, but it had wrapped itself tight round his ankles so he left it there.

His cheek was lying on sweat and hairs. The smell was of Sirius intensified. He felt a hand on his back, heard heartbeats and was starting to drift into a satisfied doze when Sirius spoke. His ribcage joggled Bill's head.

Sirius said: "Erm, about earlier. I didn't mean to seem cross. I hadn't thought of, I mean … I suppose there might have been some way to indicate, but …"

"You suppose?" Bill asked with a sleepy giggle.

"Well, I don't have much experience."

Bill raised his head to look at the anxious face above him. He wriggled up the bed so they could see each other's expressions.

"How much is not much?"

"This is new 'cos I don't know you that well, we didn't talk about anything, it just happened …"

"How many partners?"

"Partners?"

"Sexual partners."

Sirius snorted. "Partners! Is that what they say now? Very romantic! You're my third lover."

Bill couldn't contain a laugh. "How old are you?" he asked, astonished.

"I was born in nineteen sixty …" Sirius looked confused, like he didn't really know the answer.

"You're ten years older than me and you're practically a virgin!" Bill tried not to sound quite as shocked as he was, and failed. Then he grinned wide. It was sort of cute.

"We were young and then we stayed together a few years," Sirius mumbled, defensive and apologetic. "Then I wasn't exactly in a position to go picking people up."

Bill sobered himself. "Sorry. Of course." Sirius had lost his twenties to Azkaban.

"What about you?" Sirius asked. "How many _partners_ have you managed?"

Bill had felt before that he really ought to know the answer to this one, but he didn't have an exact figure.

"Quite a lot. A lot."

Sirius pulled a sick face, "I feel so special now," he said, sarcastically.

"You are special, you're the best," Bill mumbled into his hair. He i_was_ /ispecial because Bill was prepared to risk a lot more for him, because he probably could have walked away from most of the others. He'd had to come back to Sirius.

"You don't even have a number?" Sirius asked with just a trace of bitterness.

"I'm not sure exactly how many Amirs," Bill confessed.

"Is that code?"

"It's a name."

"It's not a common name!" Sirius spluttered, sitting up. "If you've lost track of the Amirs, what are you like on the Steves?"

Bill tried to pull Sirius back down to him, "I was in Cairo," he explained, "it is a common name in Cairo."

Sirius resisted and looked at him resentfully.

"Yes, I'm a slag," Bill admitted. "Three Steves. One for two weeks."

Sirius laughed, his big barking laugh. "Is that what passes for a relationship in your life?"

"I was with one bloke for nearly six months!" Bill protested. "Lie down and cuddle me!"

Sirius lay back, but he stayed tense.

Bill wrapped his arms round him and shuffled up to get his mouth to the silky black hair over his ear. "You're my first Sirius."

Sirius laughed again. "I should bloody think so!" he huffed. "As far as I know, I'm the only one! Are you hungry? I'm starving."

When Bill nodded, Sirius got out of the bed and strode over to the door. Bill watched the concaves and curves of his buttocks.

"Kreacher!" Sirius yelled down the stairs. "You useless lump of toss! Heat up what's left of that stew and bring it here. With toast!"

Bill had always been horrified by the way Sirius ordered Kreacher around. He couldn't ever remember hearing anyone else be that rude. Not even Great Aunt Muriel. It didn't fit with everything else about the man. But what did Bill know about House Elves? Sirius had been brought up with them. He would know how to talk to one. Elves weren't wizards, after all. But then nor were Goblins.

When Sirius got back into the bed, untangling the sheet and bringing it up with him, Bill asked something else that had been bothering him.

"How did you know I was gay?" He needed to know these things if he was going to pass for straight.

"I didn't," Sirius answered, annoyingly. "I s'pose you have to go home soon?"

"Only if you want to get rid of me. I'm free all evening. Why did you hit on me if you couldn't tell I'd be interested?"

Sirius chuckled and put an arm round his young lover's bare shoulders. "I flirt with all the good looking boys," he answered, "most of them think it's a joke."

Bill smacked himself on the forehead, exclaiming, "Of course! Homosexuality is hilarious! I forgot that one!" He must remember to make jokes about shirt-lifters and faggots if he wanted to hide the fact that he was one. Used to be one. Was trying hard not to be … but obviously not that hard given that he was now naked in bed with a man he'd just …

"And disgusting, morally depraved, sinful, weak …" Sirius added in a monotone.

"I remembered all that!" Bill explained. "That's why the Slytherins used to beat me up. What I forgot was the Gryffindors' dirty jokes." That had hurt nearly as much. He would have liked support from his housemates.

"You got queer-bashed at Hogwarts?" Sirius sounded really surprised.

"You didn't?"

Sirius looked thoughtful. "No," he replied, "but then the Slytherins had their hands full beating me up for being a traitor to a Pureblood name. And the Gryffindors were avoiding me because they didn't trust anyone called Black. The queer thing was by the by."

With a crack Kreacher appeared, carrying a cauldron and a plate of toast. He dumped them down on the floor, muttering, "The master is naked in bed with the blood traitor's son. He thinks Kreacher doesn't know what they've been doing. My mistress would be shamed …"

"Shut up and fuck off!" Sirius snarled and, clutching its mouth, the bat-eared creature disappeared.

"Don't mind Kreacher," Sirius said, "he's just a cunt."

Bill didn't mind. As long as the House Elf didn't start telling the rest of the Order what he'd seen.

"I'll come round before the meeting tomorrow, if that's all right?" Bill asked.

"I don't have plans to go out," Sirius chuckled dryly.

"We could have an hour or so before the rest of the Order get here. If you're still interested in a cheap tart like me."

A fierce kiss answered him better than any words could have done.

_A.N: I had a broken night due to my toddler and my wisdom tooth is giving me ulcers, so sorry for any drop in quality. Please let me know what mistakes I've made!_


	10. Chapter 10 The Dog in the Manger

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

_For __remuslives23__. Forgive me._

The Dog in the Manger

He walked off the moor into the pub. Conversation stopped. Every face turned in his direction. Silence. Regardless, he took the few steps to the bar. The locals leaning against it moved aside. The Slaughtered Lamb was a dangerous pub for strangers.

He ordered a pint of bitter. He wouldn't be able to drink it all, but ordering a half here was tantamount to putting on full drag and asking to be beaten to a pulp against the quiz machine.

"Is Len around?" he asked the barman as he took his change.

The youth did not answer him, but his question caused a murmur among the regulars. He shifted round to face the room, supping his ale, resting his back against the bar. The locals turned their faces away from him, quietly resuming their conversations. He drank, feeling self-conscious, trying desperately not to show it.

The beer wasn't too bad but he was in no mood to appreciate it. He wasn't here to prepare a report for the Campaign for Real Ale. Maybe he should have used that as his cover, he could try that in future. Although he felt nauseous already and wanted to keep a clear head, he belatedly realised that leaving any of his beer was going to be taken as an insult.

It was windy and wet outside, but he decided to head for the beer garden anyway. He'd seen it on the way in and it was no more than a couple of tables in the car park. As he walked out of the only door he heard the chatter behind him relax and get louder.

He sat on the wet wood, feeling his trousers soak through. Just as he was wondering whether he could get away with pouring the bitter out onto the ground without getting caught, a young woman slipped onto the seat next to him and sniffed deeply. She had the hood of her anorak up and angled her face away from him.

"You're looking for Lenny?" she asked.

"That's right."

"Your name?"

"Lupin. Remus Lupin. And you?"

"You can call me Jenny Agutter," she answered with a sticky smoker's laugh.

"Lenny around then?"

"No."

"Do you know where he is, or how I can get hold of him?"

"No." She stood up to leave.

"Will you tell him I was asking after him?"

"Aye. I'll tell him there was one of us in," she said, walking back into the bar.

Remus left his pint on the table, walked out into the rain and Apparated to Grimmauld Place. He wasn't looking forward to the meeting because he didn't really have anything to report. The werewolves were understandably cagey. He wasn't even sure that he wanted to be let into their pack, their gang, whatever it was. Bunch of sadistic psychopaths. But somebody had to do it and he was the only member of the Order who smelled right.

He was looking forward to seeing Sirius, though, to staying on for a drink afterwards. He needed sleep, but he wanted the company. He ached to be with someone who understood him. For years he'd been the last Marauder and it had been lonely: James and Peter dead and Sirius imprisoned. He hadn't been able to face making new friends, confronting the decision of when and whether to trust someone enough to tell them the truth.

Mad-Eye Moody was standing on the step above him when he appeared.

"Hell do you think you're doing?" he growled. "Could have splinched us both. You Apparate to the Square!"

"Sorry!" Remus was just too knackered so he hadn't bothered.

Moody leaned right into his face, spittle spraying off him and hissed, "Constant Vigilance!"

And it was just his eye that was supposed to be mad, was it?

Luckily Arthur opened the door then and they crept inside, careful not to wake the portraits, weaving round the umbrella stand. Remus whispered a charm to dry himself off.

Remus walked down into the kitchen. There were quite a few members sitting at the long table already. That sweet girl Auror was sitting with Shacklebolt and Emmeline Vance. Moody limped over to them. Molly and her eldest were sorting out pots of tea and coffee over by the range. And there was Sirius, on his own at the far end of the table, leaning back in his chair. Remus walked up to him and sat down.

"Ah, Moony!" Sirius tore his attention away from something and slapped his friend on the shoulder. He looked unreasonably pleased with himself.

"Pads! How's it going?" Remus relaxed and waited for the usual moan about being stuck indoors and not being able to do anything. He had days when he'd gladly take that option, but all in all, he'd rather be out in the field, stressed and scared, than imprisoned and bored here.

"Not too bad, you?"

That was a surprise. Remus looked up to examine the face he knew so well, but it was turned away from him again, intent on something else in the room. Remus looked round, too. Molly had cleaned things up in here and the gas lamps were bright, the range warm, the faces friendly. Was that enough to account for Sirius' sudden sunny mood?

"Erm, could be better. Nasty lot, Werewolves."

Mundungus shuffled in. Molly looked disapprovingly at him. Sirius seemed to be looking in her direction.

Sirius laughed, "Worse than you?"

"I'll tell you about it later. Am I all right to stay on for a drink after?"

"Probably." Sirius moved his head. It wasn't Molly he'd been looking at. He followed the Weasley son's movement round the table.

Probably? What did that mean? Remus looked at the young man, too. Bill, that was his name.

"Remember being that young?" he asked.

"Not really," Padfoot drawled, "when I was twenty-four I was in Azkaban."

Remus was flustered, "I suppose I meant younger than that, then. Remember when we were younger than that? I miss being young." Sirius said nothing, so Remus added, "Don't you?" He wasn't used to Sirius doing all that smiling. He knew he ought to be happy for his friend, his best friend, but instead he was unnerved.

Sirius ignored his question and instead asked, "Lovely, isn't he?"

Oh Hecuba! He'd got a crush. He was going to get his hopes up and get his heart broken and be even more unbearably miserable than before.

"He is out of your league, Padfoot."

"You would think, wouldn't you?" And Sirius kept on grinning.

No! Remus snatched up Sirius' hand and looked at his fingernails before dropping it onto the table in disgust. His intestines twisted painfully.

"Molly's son? Are you suicidal?" he hissed, getting closer to Sirius to keep their conversation private.

Finally his fellow Marauder looked at him instead of watching his conquest. He said, "I'm not scared of Molly Weasley. And he's a grown man. It's none of her business."

"You know he's got a girlfriend?" Remus hadn't meant that to sound so vicious. He'd been trying for concerned but that clenching in his guts had deformed his voice.

Sirius just shrugged.

"Sirius, this is mad. It's dangerous. You have to stop it!" It was taking all of Remus' control to resist the desire to shout angrily. He tensed his throat and his face to avoid drawing attention to their argument.

Sirius, however, just relaxed back in his seat and whispered, "What's the matter? You changed your mind?"

"No." Circumstances hadn't improved. It was the wrong time. It was dangerous. They both had too many other things to worry about.

"Good. 'Cos you're too late."

But when circumstances improved, when things got better, he had hoped, well assumed, but if this boy was going to be around, then … Remus' thoughts petered out into bitter incoherence.

Albus Dumbledore entered the room and all chatter ceased. Most of the places were now taken. There was a general straightening of backs and leaning forward. Dumbledore sat in a central seat and - what do you know? - the beautiful Bill sat next to him.

"Good evening to you all," Dumbledore began and bestowed a good twinkle on everyone before getting down to hard business. Parchment fluttered from a pile before him and a sheet landed in front of each of them.

"Reports from Hagrid on the state of play with the giants. Nothing from Severus this time, but some interesting developments there. Tonks, what have you got on Thicknesse for us?"

Tonks had lots of information on her allocated Death Eater and then several other members gave full reports on theirs. Remus started to feel like he had forgotten to do his Transfiguration homework and was about to be asked for it. Arthur gave a full update on the shift patterns of the employees in the Department of Mysteries.

Dumbledore turned his full blue twinkle on Remus. Every other head turned to face him.

Remus stuttered, "I … it's … there's … It's very difficult. I still haven't managed to speak to any pack members. There are rumours. But nothing we hadn't heard before."

Albus was too considerate to show his disappointment, but several other people looked thoroughly let down.

"We need to know what Greyback's plans are!" Moody growled.

"Remus is aware of that Alastor. He can only do what can be done," Dumbledore answered kindly, making Remus feel like a complete failure.

The headmaster then turned to his right. "And the goblins, Bill? Any progress there?"

Oh, and the boy wonder only pulled out a scroll as long as his arm and proceeded to copy it to everyone there, saying, "I have actually. Finally made a contact. He's called Babwinde and he's on the Muggle Liaison desk. I've got information on historical grievances in the report, some ideas of what we might be able to offer them to bring them round, names of prominent goblins in the various factions and also a rumour about a secret Dark goblin society."

Everyone nodded and looked impressed. Everyone except Remus who felt sick and ground his teeth.

"You all right?" Sirius asked in a low voice.

Remus swallowed, sat up, tried to compose himself. For the rest of the meeting, though, he kept catching himself looking daggers over at Molly and Arthur's eldest and had to contain growls.

Most of the members left quickly once it was all over, but the Weasleys stayed to wash up and tidy. Eventually Arthur bade everyone goodnight and trudged off for a stint of guard duty at the Ministry. Remus waited patiently for Molly to take her son home with her so he could have his old friend to himself.

He still felt sick. He was tired and run-down but this sickness was something else. He was angry, he told himself, because it was dangerous to have secrets inside the Order. They were jeopardising everyone's safety. They were probably tipping the odds in favour of a Voldemort victory. Just for a bit of nooky. He was quite sure that that was what was upsetting him. He was going to talk Sirius out of this madness.

He realised that Molly was looking at him, had been looking at him with concern for some time.

"You don't look well, Remus," she cooed.

"He looks awful!" Sirius barked. Thanks, mate. That's how to make someone feel better!

"Are you eating properly?" Molly asked.

"I'm fine. Just tired," he mumbled.

"Where are you staying now?" Molly asked, "Are they feeding you properly?"

"I'm on my own. It's OK. I had to sleep out a few nights. Tip offs. They never showed up, though." He was rambling now.

Molly tutted. "I don't like to think of you being on your own in this state. Have you got any proper food in? Will you come back to us for supper?"

And sit across the table from golden boy? Not likely.

"That's kind, Molly, but I just want to get to bed now. I promise to eat something first."

"I'm not sure he should be Apparating himself," Bill piped up. Remus glared at him. "Mum, why don't you Side-Along him home? You can make sure he has a good meal that way. Dad's out all night and I can sort myself out. You'll be worrying otherwise. You know what you're like."

The last thing Remus wanted now was Molly fussing over him. Merlin! She'd probably tuck him in bed and read him a bedtime story! He wouldn't put it past her to spoon feed him wholesome soup in his jim-jams. Very convenient for the lovers, of course, getting rid of her and him in one movement so they could get on with … whatever. Remus didn't want to think about that.

"That's decided then. Pass me that basket, will you, Bill? I've got some bits and pieces in there I can use for a nice soup. Good night Sirius. I'll see you at home later, Bill. Come along Remus. You take my other arm …" Molly directed and Remus could see no way of escape.

Why couldn't the bloody woman see the filthy smirks spreading over the faces of the other two men? And how did she miss the wink Sirius gave Remus just before they Apparated away?


	11. Chapter 11 The Dogs D'Amour

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

The Dogs D'Amour

As soon as Remus and Molly were out of sight, Sirius stalked across the kitchen to Bill.

"Nice. Very smoothly done." The lad could have been a Marauder. Sirius got a hand to each of those muscular shoulders and looked into his face. "Now, back to bed, I think" he said, bringing his face in for a kiss.

But Bill pulled back. "Not yet," he said firmly.

What? What was the point of getting rid of the gooseberries then? Sirius pressed his thighs onto his lovers' and pushed him into the wood of the long bench.

"Look," he explained, "much as I'd like to lay you out naked on the table, this is the room with the Floo connection in it."

"That's a point." Bill stiffened and shoved Sirius off him in earnest. "Right, sitting room and then you can explain why he hates me all of a sudden."

Bill strode over to the open doorway and then turned back to add something. Sirius put a finger to his lips and nodded significantly up towards the portraits. Bill huffed slightly but took the hint and quietly made his purposeful way up the stairs. Sirius stayed the right number of steps below him so that he could nuzzle his arse. He smelt so good, so Bill. Sirius almost wanted to transform so that he could use his heightened canine sense of smell. Then he'd be able to smell two types of come on him from earlier, shower or no shower.

As soon as they were in the sitting room and the door was quietly closed, Sirius went for deflection ("Great report on the Goblins,") and distraction (a firm, moving hand on the front of the trousers).

"Yeah. It only came together today. I didn't have anything new yesterday, then I got talking to Babwinde. Mmmm, that's …."

For a moment Sirius thought he'd got away with it, avoided the conversation. But he hadn't.

Bill pulled the hand away and kept hold of it. "Soon," he promised. "First, tell me what you said to Lupin and why he now wants to hex me."

Sirius sighed and loped over to the sofa. "Don't worry, he won't tell anyone."

"Tell anyone what?"

"About us."

"Why did you say anything?" Bill looked irritated, but not furious.

Good question. "Just showing off, I suppose," Sirius mumbled.

At least Bill took the compliment, came and sat beside Sirius, smiling slightly. "How d'you know he's not informing my Mum right now?" he asked, trying to be stern but with his eyes roving over the other man's shape.

"We know too much about each other. And he's my best friend. He's safe."

"Which doesn't explain why he's gone from treating me like a colleague to glaring at me like I'm a Death Eater."

Sirius straightened up and looked away. He wasn't sure if it was OK, even now, to tell anyone, even Bill. There was a pause and then he said quietly, "We used to be … I mean, we had a … Remus and I were … together. For a few years. Before Azkaban."

Bill exhaled noisily. Sirius looked round at him and added, ""Don't tell anyone, will you?"

Bill shook his head. "And he wants you back?" he asked.

He looked worried. Was he jealous? Sirius experienced a warm fluttering. Was he? He held the moment, embraced the feeling of Bill's possible jealousy.

Then he answered, "No."

Bill didn't attempt to hide his relief. Sirius watched him relax.

"What if he did?" Sirius asked.

"I've got no right to be possessive," Bill answered.

They both knew he meant because of his girlfriend, but neither of them mentioned her.

"But I like it," Sirius admitted.

"OK. Well, I am then. I don't want him wanting you. And I really don't want you wanting him." He stared into Sirius' eyes as though trying to read something there.

"Well, apparently it's a bad time. It's inconvenient. Everything's dangerous or something, so we can't." Sirius expressed his scorn in every word. "Not that it matters now," giving Bill an appreciative look. "In fact as it's turned out, it's just as well he didn't want to …" he wasn't sure how to complete that sentence.

"Pick up where you left off?" Bill asked.

Sirius nodded.

"But you did?" Bill asked. The cute frown lines were back.

"Well, I don't now," Sirius answered, shifting his body over, replacing his hand on the front of Bill's trousers. Bill leaned in to the pressure. He closed his eyes. They were alright, then? Sirius lifted his other hand to Bill's face and delivered a tentative kiss to his lower lip, just to be sure.

Bill responded, deepening the contact, opening his mouth. Sirius felt Bill's fingers unbuttoning his shirt. They were alright.

Sirius pulled Bill's body onto his, lying them both down. He was learning to play Bill's body as though it were an instrument with frets and strings - learning the right places to put his fingers and what pressure could produce which sounds. He knew, for instance, that there was a sensitive spot behind Bill's knee and that there was no point in bothering with his feet; his nose fitted perfectly behind Bill's ear lobe and that was the perfect spot from which to nibble his jaw.

Their movements were co-ordinated as they undressed each other and themselves. They knew each other's fastenings and angles now. But there was still plenty to learn and the lessons were plenty of fun. Sirius ran a ticklingly light palm over Bill's stomach. No reaction. He gradually increased the pressure until he got an appreciative hum. Then he let his hand drift lower, into the dip between hip and pubic bones. He was rewarded with a noise almost like a growl.

Bill's mouth moved down to Sirius' neck: licking, nipping, lapping and kissing. Something sent a shiver through Sirius' whole body. Bill did it again.

Sirius played his hand around Bill's groin. The man on top of him tried to shift their weight, to manoeuvre his erection into Sirius' hand, but the older man kept away. Youth might have the advantages of energy and quick recovery, but Sirius knew how to hold off, how to ration pleasure, to tease, to make the final release more intense. He knew all about patience.

He rolled over, dumping them both on the carpet. His body hovered over his lover's, everywhere not quite touching, propped on one arm while the other hand circled its target. Bill struggled and twitched, but he danced away from him.

Finally Bill shouted something along the lines of "Nnnngggung!" and Sirius decided it was time to move. He put his hand down on Bill's swollen cock and slowly moved it up and down the length. Gradually, ever so gradually, he wrapped his fingers round it, building up the pressure, building up the speed. He slowly lowered his own groin onto Bill's writhing thigh.

Then he slipped his nose into its special recess and put it to work along the jaw bone again. Hot breath delivered strangled, incoherent moans into his hair. The pitch changed, the thrusts intensified and Bill's semen sprayed onto Sirius' belly.

After a few rasping pants, Bill grabbed Sirius' head in two hands and crashed their mouths hard together. He pushed harder, knocking Sirius onto his side, his back up against the worn velvet of the sofa. Then Bill broke the kiss and crawled, awkwardly, breathlessly down to Sirius' crotch.

Sirius lay his head back, relishing the promise of warm air exhaled onto his flesh. Then he surrendered to the red darkness of sensation, switching off every sense except that of touch as Bill put his mouth round him.

After an orgasm that felt like fireworks, he lay in still silence for a while before begging, "Stay the night? Sleep with me?"

"No. She'll expect me to be back before her. I should get going now." Bill pulled himself upright and then looked down. Sirius tried to pull his features out of a pout. "Sorry," Bill offered.

Sirius sat up and watched the young skin disappear under clothes. "See you tomorrow?" he asked. He could hear the petulance himself even though he'd tried really hard for casual.

Bill squatted down next to him and answered, carefully, "I'm sorry, Siz, I've had my weekend organised out for me by women. Don't look like that! You know I'd rather be here with you."

But if that was really true, he'd just come. If Sirius was his top priority he'd dump the girlfriend and tell the mother and just come.

"Will you be on your own Sunday morning? No, but it's not likely, actually. Don't go expecting me. Look, Monday. After work. I promise. I'll bring you a present!"

"I don't want a present!" Sirius whined.

"I know what you need," Bill announced breezily, "music! I'll get you a Discman with batteries. Dad's got this recharging charm. I'll show you it. And CDs. What music are you into? What bands?"

In spite of himself, Sirius was perked up by this idea. He still sounded truculent, though, when he said, "I don't know any new bands."

"There'll be re-issues on disc. Go on. Give me some names."

Reluctant to be bought off, but keen to regain the sounds of his youth, Sirius offered, "The Clash? Boomtown Rats? The Ramones?"

"Sex Pistols?" Bill asked.

Sirius shrugged.

"Velvet Underground?" Bill tried and Sirius felt his face lighting up. Oh, yes. The Velvet Underground.

Bill took advantage of the change in mood to deliver a peck on the cheek before making a quick getaway.


	12. Chapter 12 News Hound

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

News Hound

A couple of weeks before his eleventh birthday, Billy Weasley cut a picture out of his parents' newspaper. His mother had a screaming temper fit when she saw "that heartless murderer Sirius Black" stuck on the headboard of his bed. She told him that the man was evil, it wasn't a story or a game, good people had died. Then she tore the cutting into tiny pieces and locked herself in the bathroom, sobbing.

The trial was the Prophet's big story that month and there were plenty more photographs to sneak under his mattress. When he went to Hogwarts the next September, Bill attached them to the underside of the lid of his trunk. He used them to scare the other boys in his dorm. They all knew who Black was. He was notorious.

All the wizarding families were mourning someone at that time. Billy used to talk about his uncles when the subject came up. But they were at that age when they divided the world into heroes and baddies for the retelling of the recent past. And the baddies were the most exciting.

The newspaper pieces fell apart as they do, the disintegration speeded up by having to peel them off and hide them before going home every holiday. When Bill emptied out his trunk for the last time after he had left school, he found one crumpled, snarling image into a corner at the bottom. It was only then that he registered how handsome the face was, and wondered if that had been the point all along.

A few years later, he'd found out that Black had been innocent: not a traitor, a murderer, a Death Eater or evil. Then Bill had met him, now they were lovers and Bill had been worrying about him all weekend.

He'd been so disgruntled about being left alone for a couple of days, that Bill had convinced himself that Sirius was going to do something rash. Like going out. If the Ministry caught him, he'd be returned to Azkaban. If the Death Eaters got hold of him - and they'd recognise him as a dog or a man - it would be worse. But if he was unhappy and restless then there was every chance he'd risk a trip outside anyway.

So Bill couldn't wait until evening to check on him. He nipped round to Grimmauld Place in his lunch hour. The important thing was to keep Sirius inside the house.

Bill's weekend had gone badly. He'd had a hard time from his mother for abandoning her for twenty minutes on their Saturday shopping trip so he could go into H.M.V. in Muggle London; that evening, in a nightclub with Fleur, he'd had an argument with a man who'd been chatting her up; Sunday lunch had been a disaster. He had introduced Fleur to his parents and, unexpectedly, his mother had hated her. Part of the point of having a girlfriend was to make the family happy. He'd had half a mind to abort the project altogether.

But Molly did want grandchildren. That was the point. And Fleur was the only woman he'd ever met that he could contemplate marriage with. The priority had to be, therefore, to get his mother to change her mind before Fleur realised that she was detested.

And he had been coping with all that while he had part of his mind here, at Order H.Q., fretting about Sirius. Another part of his mind was working away at how he could get more information out of the goblins. The important thing was not to let them know that he was spying on them.

This morning he had been going over it all in his head while trying to work as efficiently as he could. Because if he lost his job then he wouldn't be able to think about marrying anyone, he'd be no use to the Order and he'd never be able to afford to move out of his parents' house. So, the most important thing was to make sure that none of his other concerns affected his work.

Sirius answered the door looking surprised but pleased.

"I wasn't expecting you until this evening." He lead the way through the hall and into the kitchen.

"I thought I'd bring the music round now. Just see how you are."

"I'm fine," Sirius answered breezily. "It was a good thing you didn't come round Sunday morning …"

"I did say I couldn't!"

"Which was good. Because Andromeda and her family visited."

"Andromeda?"

"My cousin. With her husband, Ted, and their daughter. Tonks. She's in the Order."

Sirius leaned casually against the range. Bill emptied his carrier bag onto the table. "That's nice," he said.

"Yes. It was nice," Sirius replied. Too fast, too harsh.

"Shall I show you how this works?" Bill indicated the Discman. He had half an hour until he needed to be back at his desk.

Sirius lifted one shoulder like he wasn't bothered. The movement pulled the hem of his shirt out of his waistband and revealed a quick flash of white skin.

Bank, girlfriend, Battery Recharging Charm, mother, goblins and Dark wizardry all flew out of Bill's head. The only thing of any importance was tasting that skin.

Bill crossed the kitchen swiftly and ducked his head down in the same movement, pulling at the worn, black material. He sank his mouth onto the warm flesh. It tasted like Sirius had got out of bed to answer the door to him. Bill wrapped his arms round his favourite body and lifted his head up to press his nose into the neck. He inhaled the natural, musky scent.

He found himself mumbling, "I just want to spend the rest of my life in bed with you."

He felt Sirius' arms come round his waist then a hand stroking his buttock. Their bodies pressed into each other - heat, bones, fabric, muscle. Not even a week and already Bill was addicted to this. Actually given his past record, it was just as surprising that they'd been doing it nearly a week and still Bill was addicted to this. He brought his mouth over towards Sirius', the kiss prevented by the other man saying, "But you won't. You'll go back to work for the afternoon and then you'll marry your girlfriend."

"I've got half an hour before I need to get back to Gringotts," Bill answered, ignoring the second half of the statement.

He leaned in and they kissed a slow, plucking kiss.

Afterwards Sirius said, "I suppose this means you won't be round later?"

"I will. I just had to see you."

They were both hard and there wasn't much time. Bill slipped his hand down the front of Sirius' loose-waisted black jeans.

"Floo room," Sirius reminded him.

Bill shot a look over to the fire but his fingers wrapped themselves round the shaft anyway.

"Not like you. We'll get caught," Sirius breathed into his ear.

"Mmm." Bill was agreeing, but he was also responding to the flesh in his grasp while losing the function of coherent speech.

Sirius sighed and spun them into a Side-Along Apparition up to his bed. Before his head had cleared, Bill had unzipped both their flies and they were grinding against each other. Sirius started a kiss, but neither of them could concentrate on what their mouths were doing, so they ended up grunting into each others' mouths as the movement of their hands and hips got faster.

Before his head had cleared from his climax, Bill had cast a _tempus_. He swore and jumped up, adjusting his clothing while Sirius attempted cleaning spells. They rushed down the stairs, Bill apologizing, promising to be back in a few hours and running his fingers through his now-wild red hair. They were on the last flight of steps and Bill was replacing his hair band when a shadow moved into the hall.

"Is that you, Black?" asked a distinctive, nasal drawl.

Severus Snape swept into view, looking up at them. After a frozen pause, his eyebrow hitched and his mouth formed a silent "Oh".

Sirius said, "We were just uh …"

"Checking on the Hippogryph," Bill completed. "Charlie asked me to."

"Indeed?" The amused tone was obvious.

"What are you doing here, Snivellus?" Sirius spat.

"Special meeting with the Aurors. In the kitchen. Moody, Shacklebolt and Tonks are in there. We were wondering where you'd got to, Black. No sounds of housework, you see."

Bill could hear the laboured breathing behind him as Sirius fought to control his temper and he could see the sneer on Snape's face grow as he looked the two of them over.

"Because we were on the top floor, examining the Hippogryph. Buckbeak," Bill supplied, calmly. "I need to get back to work now before I'm missed, and you'd better get on with your important secret meeting."

He strode purposefully downstairs, heading for the front door. Just as he passed the curtains over Walburga Black's portrait, Snape let out a dry, contemptuous laugh and they flew open.

"Sodomites!" she shrieked, making Bill's skin explode with a scarlet blush, Snape chuckle and Sirius launch a frenzied attack on the canvas.

"You vicious old hag!" he bellowed, pulling at the curtain and smacking her image with the palm of his hand, while she ranted, "Craven pursuers of perverse lusts! Defiling the purity of our blood!"

Bill completed his walk to and out of the front door, with his expression as dead-pan and his head held as high as he could manage, given the fracas in the hallway and the disdain with which Snape was watching him.

There was no point in asking Severus Snape not to tell anyone.


	13. Chapter 13 Seeing Eye Dog

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Seeing Eye Dog

By the time Sirius had got his mother's portrait back under wraps, and his temper back under control, he was alone. He sat down on the stairs, attacked by the dusty smell of old carpet. Stretching out his right arm he let the cold brick and plaster of the wall cool his wrist, calm his blood. He knew his boyhood nemesis was on the other side of that wall luxuriating in smugness. He would be trying to work out how best to damage Sirius with his new information. Bill would not figure in his calculations.

Sirius tried to think things through. What would be the worst thing Hooky-Drip-Nose could do? Tell Dumbledore? Bill's parents? Then what? That would depend on Bill's reaction. His worst fears would have been realised. Sirius would have to support him. He could comfort him. Then what?

Snape wouldn't tell everybody all in one go. He liked holding other people's secrets too much. He loved to have leverage and make complicated plans. How could this secret destroy Sirius? That would be what Snivellus was working on, working the nasty, greasy cogs of his mind on. The worst thing he could do to Sirius would be to stop him from seeing Bill. Pathetic but true.

He'd always been a sneaky little worm. At school there was never a direct attack, it would be something snide and underhand. Sirius hated the power shift that had happened since then. As teenagers the Marauders had been cool and confidant; the under-developed, friendless Slytherin had been easy meat. Sirius had been brought up to kick House-Elves to relieve tension. Snotty Sev had been easy to despise and made a neat substitute.

It had been no surprise that he'd become a Death Eater. But to escape Azkaban and find that Dumbledore expected them to work together, that had been a nasty shock. For both of them presumably.

Sirius lay back and rested his head on the musty wool of the carpet. He stared at the water-stained ceiling. When had that happened? It was a long way up, through three floors, outside his own bedroom. Where he and Bill had made each other happy. Was that going to happen again?

If Shampooless did leak their secret, if Bill's _girlfriend _found out what her beloved had been up to and finished with him, then … Ah! Would she? That would be good. Having been found out, would Bill come clean? Could he and Sirius be openly in love? Happily ever after?

Or would it all be over? Would Bill walk away? Why would he? With nothing left to lose?

Of course the Slipperus probably thought that Sirius was desperate to have the affair kept secret. He couldn't know that, actually, it might suit him very nicely to have things out in the open. The worst thing actually, would be for Sevvy-baby to quietly hold onto his knowledge and wait for a devastating opportunity to use it. They would both know that he knew, the three of them watching each other. They would be forced to side with him in any Order politics. It was a very good thing that Snape had no way of reading Sirius' thoughts.

There was a sound on the stone stairs up from the kitchen. Sirius hadn't meant to stay there, he should have gone back upstairs instead of lying around, lost in his thoughts. He stood up just as Tonks emerged into the hallway.

"Wotcher Cuz!" she called up.

Sirius put his finger to his lips and indicated the curtains beside him.

"How you doing then?" Tonks whispered.

He shrugged. With her face angled so that only he could see it, she transformed her features into a caricature of Snape's greasy, sombre, hook-nosed features. Sirius laughed, then clapped his hand to his mouth and jumped away from the portrait. Shacklebolt and Mad-Eye came up the steps behind her. Shacklebolt and Tonks left together but Mad-Eye fiddled round by the door for a moment.

"What are you up to, Alastor?" came the chillingly unmistakeable sneer of the man Sirius hated.

"Checking the wards," Moody replied, "can't be too careful!"

For some reason, Snape then came up to Sirius, and, while the oil-ball said, "We'll leave you to your Hippogryph, then, Black", Sirius found himself running through his recent thought processes and feeling very grateful that the other man could not hear them. Looking Sirius straight in the face, Snape smirked and then swished round and walked out of the front door.

Sirius stared after him until Moody snapped at him, "No wandering! You stay here! Got it? You'd be far too useful to them! Understand?"

"I'm not a complete idiot!" Sirius barked back.

When Moody left too the house felt empty. Too much space, too much time to fill until Bill finished work and came round. If he hadn't been scared off. Another evening alone would be dreadful, the weekend had been unbearable.

He wandered down into the kitchen. The sink was full of unwashed coffee cups from the meeting. Ignorant bastards! They thought they were too important to clean up after themselves and that he had nothing else to do. He would find something to do, just to prove them wrong.

The gift Bill had brought round was scattered over the table still. He sifted through the plastic. He tried to get to grips with the Discman, most of his time taken up trying to open the thing. The Boomtown Rats disc was a compilation, not one of the L.P.s he'd had before, though he recognised most of the titles. He pushed a chair up to the range and sat with his back to it. Autumn was settling in now. He was pleased with himself for managing to get everything working, the music pouring straight into his ears.

Gradually, he let himself go, shouting along with the familiar tracks:

"I wish you'd stop whispering, Don't flatter yourself, nobody's listening. But it makes me nerv … AAAH!"

A hand on his shoulder! He jumped out of his skin and fell off the chair. When he looked up, pulling the earphones out of his ears, he saw Remus standing over him, laughing his head off.

"Bastard!"

"You screamed like a girl! You should see yourself!" Remus was actually wiping tears from his eyes. He hadn't seen the werewolf this happy since before James died.

Sirius got up off the floor. "Yeah, Moony," he said, "almost as good as the look on your face when Molly whisked you away the other night."

"Oh, this makes up for it. Oh, Pads, I wish you'd had a bigger audience."

Sirius growled good naturedly. "You forgiven me for Friday, then?" he checked.

"I have now." Remus picked up a six-pack of beers from the floor by the fire and placed them on the table. "Actually, I had anyway. I flooed in with these to check we were OK again."

"You could have fire-called before barging in," Sirius muttered. "Shall I get glasses?"

"Only if you've suddenly turned into a Duchess. I did stick my head in first, but you didn't hear me. What is that?" he pointed at the Discman on the floor.

"It's a music thing," Sirius said, helping himself to a can of beer, "Bill gave me it."

"A little gift to keep you sweet?" There was a definite edge to Lupin's voice'

"You want a go?" He handed it over, ignoring his friend's tone.

Remus fastidiously wiped the little plastic earpieces on his robes before popping them into his ears. Typical Moony. How many body fluids had they shared? It was endearingly familiar.

"One day you'll grow up and discover classical music!"

"You're shouting!" Sirius laughed at him.

"What? What's so funny?" Remus pulled one wire out.

"Let's take these up to the sitting room and get a _Sonorus_ on this thing," Sirius suggested. Loud music and beer and his best friend. It had been years!

Hours passed quickly. Bill walked in on them pogo-ing on the furniture.

"You've got company, I'll …" The redhead backed out of the door.

Remus sobered up instantly. "No, I'll leave you two to get on with things."

It suddenly felt desperately important to Sirius that his best friend and his lover like each other.

"Sit down! Both of you! There's more beer!"

He leapt off the coffee table and lunged for the door, prepared to drag Bill back in if necessary. Bill held his arms up in surrender and made his own way into the room.

"Did he say anything?" Bill asked.

Snape! Of course! Sirius had forgotten all about him. Bill must have been worrying about it all afternoon.

"Nothing. Just told me to get back to the Hippogryph."

Bill bit his nails.

"Am I allowed to know what you're talking about?" Remus asked.

Sirius gave Bill a questioning look. Was he? Bill sighed then and, to Sirius' surprise, told Remus the whole story. He managed to make it sound funny, though Sirius knew he wasn't really amused by the situation.

Remus was though. "It would have to be old Soap-Dodger Snape who caught you!" he chuckled, when Bill had finished.

"You've worked with him, Remus, what do you think he'll do?" Bill asked, letting his anxiety show a bit more.

"He's a funny old snake," Lupin muttered pensively. "Couldn't say for sure. It would have to be in his interest before he'd share any information, though. And he didn't actually see anything, did he? To be honest, if he started any unsubstantiated rumours about Sirius, most people would take it with a pinch of salt anyway. Everyone knows you two hate each other."

Bill looked relieved. "We could still bluff this out, couldn't we?"

"I've got to go!" Remus announced. "I've got some furry friends to cuddle." His flippancy was unconvincing. "I expect you've got plans tonight, Bill. With your girlfriend?"

"No. Actually." Bill's defensive stance showed that he'd picked up the implied criticism. "I'm on Watch Duty tonight. I've got a few hours before the Ministry will be empty."

Sirius felt his blood run cold. He hadn't liked the thought of Remus spending the night with werewolves, but this was much worse. Bill shouldn't be in any danger.

"I'll do it!" he said with enthusiasm.

Remus was clearly watching Bill to gauge his response.

"Don't be daft. That's far too … If Dumbledore thought it was OK for you to be on the rota then you would be. It's only sitting in a corridor all night. The most exciting thing that'll happen to me is getting piles!"

Remus laughed. "It is bloody boring!" he reassured Sirius.

Nice to know that he was the only one not trusted with something so innocuous!

As soon as Remus had gone, Sirius swept over to Bill and got his arms round him.

"Be careful!" he whispered, then took the younger man's ear lobe into his mouth. He pressed him tight to his chest, snaking his tongue inside his ear. He was trying to mask his desperate fear, to make it look like lust.

Bill, his voice thick with the real thing, murmured, "You'd better get up those stairs. I need to see your Hippogryph."

They made it up one flight, tripping each other as they grabbed at enticing anatomy.

"Why is your room right at the top of the house?" Bill demanded gruffly.

"There are other bedrooms!" Sirius grunted, but he aimed his wand at one of the doors to slam it shut before they got to it. "Nosey grassing portrait," he explained, breathlessly, as they fell to the floor on the landing.

The smelly carpet didn't matter, nor did the uneven wooden boards beneath it. They pressed their bodies into each other, the pressure unyielding from mouths, through chests and groins, to shins. They ground their clothed erections into each other.

Sirius knew that if the Death Eaters came for the Prophecy tonight, this could be his last chance to do this. He wanted to print the shape of Bill's body onto his own. He slid his hands away from the broad, muscular shoulders, along Bill's long arms and gripped his wrists. Hard. He rolled them both until he was lying on top, Bill's arms above his head. All the time their lips kept contact and they shoved themselves onto each other.

Sirius adjusted his hip movement, making it vertical, pulling up and down Bill's shaft with his own. Bill grunted with frustration, attempting aborted little thrusts. Sirius shifted both wrists into one fist and forced the other hand between their crotches, wriggling and fighting to unzip them both and force down fabric.

Bare skin on bare skin pulsed with heat. Sirius anchored his free hand on one strong shoulder and pulled his length along Bill's again. They both howled. Bill's teeth sank into his neck and Sirius moved down again. He pushed himself up and down, the pace getting more frantic until the explosion of completion thrilled through both of their bodies at the same time.


	14. Chapter 14 Top Dog

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Top Dog

Bill leant against the wall of the corridor and pushed himself stiffly to standing. He was glad he'd taken today off work. Absolutely nothing had happened. All night. Just the same as every other watch he'd taken. Now came the most exciting bit - sneaking out of the Ministry building before the staff arrived for the morning. And that wasn't particularly dangerous. If he got caught he would just say that he was looking for his father's office. The more he practiced lying the better he got at it.

His mother was in the kitchen at The Burrow, sitting at the table with her hands wrapped round a half drunk cup of tea.

"Oh, you're all right!" she said, leaping up as he Apparated in.

"Of course I am," Bill answered with a hug.

He towered over her, leaning down to kiss the hair on the top of her head. She'd done the same to him when he'd been small.

"You must be hungry!"

She broke away, heading for the pans. He caught her glance at the magic clock. Now that she was confident about the safety of one of her flock, she needed to check on the rest of them.

"More tired than hungry," he tried to answer, but she insisted on conjuring him a plate of scrambled egg, bacon and mushrooms.

As he ate, his father came downstairs dressed for work.

"Ah! Bill. No concerns last night, I hope?" Arthur asked. His father had been worrying about him too.

"Absolutely trouble free. As usual."

"Wouldn't do to be complacent. One night something will happen to someone," Arthur insisted. He looked reassured, though.

Bill slept until midday. When he woke he felt well enough to work. Next time he would just take the morning off. Today, though, he had a free afternoon. And he knew where he wanted to spend it.

Sirius answered the door looking terrible. His lids were heavy and the hollows of his face dark. He saw Bill and exhaled hard, colour flooding his face.

"Come in. Thank God."

Bill felt guilt thud into his stomach with the weight of granite. He had known perfectly well that Sirius was worrying about him as hard as Mr and Mrs Weasley were. He'd fallen asleep without letting him know he was safe.

Sirius stalked ahead into the house, briefly supporting himself on the banister before turning to give Bill an obviously forced smile.

"I'm fine. Everything's fine," Bill offered.

"Anything happen last night?" Sirius checked.

"All fine," Bill insisted.

"Fine."

They looked at each other. Sirius was running his eyes rapidly all over Bill's face and body. It was as though he were checking that everything really was fine. Or, Bill realised with a sharper pang of guilt, as though he had been thinking that he might not see it again.

"Very fine." Clearly Sirius was trying for seductive, but his voice shook.

"You look like you need to lie down," Bill answered. He layered his voice to sound like lust, but was actually thinking that it was sleep Sirius needed.

Bill wrapped his arms round thin shoulders and Apparated them both to Sirius' bedroom.

Sitting down on the bed, Sirius said, "We could have walked. I liked what happened when we tried to walk up here yesterday."

"Good thing we had a bit more patience at lunchtime," Bill said, smiling, "or Snape would have got a proper eye-full."

They smiled rather than laughed. Making light was one thing, but it was too tough a subject to be really funny.

Bill didn't know what to say. He didn't want to ask how worried Sirius had been, whether he'd slept, what Bill could do to make things better; he couldn't think of anything else to talk about.

Sirius put his wand down on the bedside table. Bill was reminded of the time they'd fellated his wand together.

"It's our one week anniversary!" Bill announced.

"We should have a shower to celebrate."

The first corner of a plan formed at the edge of Bill's mind. He did know way to make amends. He just didn't know if he was brave enough to carry it through.

"Afterwards," he said, leaning into Sirius' body, stroking back the ebony hair, pressing their mouths together.

Sirius responded with feverish energy. They lay back together. Bill wasn't sure who had started the move down. From then on, though, he was careful to let Sirius lead their actions. Sirius' movements were frantic and jagged. He pulled at Bill's clothes ineffectively and it was Bill who removed them.

Bill watched his lover climb onto him. The blinding desire was infectious. He sank into it. His hands pushed their way inside the silk shirt, up the hot, smooth skin of Sirius' sides. Soon they were both naked, writhing and exploring with hands and mouths. Bill's brain worked away under it all, questioning himself, trying to work out if he could go through with this. He lost his thinking abilities as the fog of arousal descended, but kept pulling himself together, forcing himself to ignore his thrusting lust for long enough to make a decision.

When he was absolutely sure, he parted his knees, lifting them to the level of Sirius' hips, grabbed Sirius' left hand and sucked in three of the long fingers. He angled his pelvis forward to rub against Sirius' stiff, sticky cock. Sirius froze.

He looked down into Bill's face. For a moment they were both completely still, Sirius resting on one elbow, his legs lying between Bill's, his fingers in Bill's mouth. Bill smoothed his hands down to Sirius' buttocks and held them firmly.

"Do you mean it?" Sirius choked out.

Bill just swallowed and nodded. He wriggled himself up against Sirius' naked skin to make the point.

"I thought you didn't." Sirius planted one soft kiss on Bill's forehead.

"I haven't," Bill said round the fingers, "I want to." Because you are different and special, he didn't say.

Sirius nodded; his eyes glittered. He shifted slightly down Bill's body and softly pulled his hand free of Bill's lips. He moved it down between their bodies. Bill could feel the solid, rounded wetness of the end of the penis against his perineum, and the smaller, wetter, harsher feel of the fingers massaging his hole.

He knew exactly what Sirius was doing, he'd done it enough times himself. He tried not to think about what it felt like to be Sirius.

Sirius rolled off him and the loss of the body warmth was like a slap.

"Are you sure?" Sirius asked.

Bill nodded. He was absolutely sure. Sirius waited.

"Yes, I'm sure," Bill said.

He grabbed a pillow from beyond his head and lifted his hips to place it underneath.

Sirius took his wand from the little table and pointed it across the room. Some sheets of paper fluttered to the floor as a little tube rose up from underneath them and flew to the bed from the top of the chest of drawers.

Sirius got back into position between Bill's knees, saying, "Then you're going to have to relax."

Bill realised then that his buttocks were clenched together. He made an effort to relax all his muscles. For some reason, on no evidence, he was expecting this to hurt. He made his breathing slow, reminded himself that he trusted Sirius. Completely. Sirius smiled.

Bill watched as Sirius squeezed lube onto his fingers and ran them over each other. Bill noticed for the first time that the nails of the middle three fingers of his right hand were short, whereas the rest of his fingernails were long. Grey eyes looked down between Bill's thighs and Bill couldn't stop himself from imagining what that looked like.

Making eye contact, Sirius lowered his mouth onto Bill's cock. Bill gasped and Sirius popped in a finger. It felt like a trapped fart until Sirius started to move it and a chilli burn began. Bill thought he'd been stupid not to try this out for himself first. It was easy enough to finger-fuck yourself. That way he would have been prepared.

It felt like pain and Bill's body was about to react to it as though it were pain, but realised in time that it wasn't. The finger movement created a new, intoxicating sensation. Bill managed to relax into it. His brain started to close down.

Sirius continued to lick along the head of Bill's prick, lulling him further, so that he never noticed the entry of the second finger. The nerves inside Bill's anus sang incoherent messages to his brain. The rub was like raw skin, the stretch like hunger, but there was no making out the shapes within him. He felt himself falling inside himself. There was so much for his senses to process, almost too much. He gritted his teeth against the push.

Sirius stopped moving. "Should I stop?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"No!" Bill nearly screamed. His arse pushed itself down on the static fingers.

They couldn't stop, this had to happen. It was his gift to Sirius, his way of telling him he loved him, without using the words. The words would lead his lover to ask about Fleur and he could never leave her. Because as much as he loved Sirius, or himself, or could love Fleur, none of it matched the love he had for his unborn children. The need for them hollowed him out.

Sirius removed his fingers and knelt up. Bill stopped himself clenching again. He closed his eyes. The wet, rounded tip was smoother than the fingers and soothed its way inside, little bit by little bit. Bill snatched at Sirius' arm and pulled him down so that their bodies pressed together. He kissed Sirius on his panting mouth as he pushed into him.

Sirius drew in a gasp of air. Then he muttered unintelligibly. His hips rocked back and thrust in. Bill grabbed at his buttocks, stroking then kneading, then digging his nails in as the momentum increased.

Bill only existed in his groin. His prick was rubbed between their sweaty bellies and Sirius' prick rubbed to the same rhythm in his arse. He was heat and little else.

Sirius braced his arms against the mattress and tipped his pelvis. Bill realised what was coming and wondered for a second whether he would cope. Then it was too late and his insides exploded with colour, shape, sound and writhing liquid. After only a few strokes of intense joy, Bill heard himself shrieking as he came.

He lay back, boneless, breathing deeply. Above him, Sirius still moved to and fro. His unfocussed deep grey eyes glistened, his panting was shallow, forced and fast, his mouth twisted into a grimace. He looked to be beyond ecstasy. Bill tried to commit the image to everlasting memory. Then Sirius bared his teeth, groaned, thrust hard twice and fell onto Bill's chest.

After a few minutes Sirius made to pull out, but Bill stopped him with a hand on his lower back. He wanted them to be closer than possible for as long as they could. He ran his other hand through silky black hair.

"How was that?" Sirius mumbled onto his collar bone.

How was it? Indescribable. So together, so full, so rubbed and so loved and something above and around and within all of those things.

"Good," Bill reassured him. "Very good."


	15. Chapter 15 Queen Bitch

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Warning: No smut this chapter. Coming again soon, I promise!

Queen Bitch

Sirius lay still on top of his lover's body as they slowly cooled. He stroked a lazy hand up his chest, through the ginger hairs there. This man was a blessing. He had survived the night. All that worrying had been unjustified. Sirius was thankful. He inhaled the sweat and sex smells coming from them both, and knew which were whose. Bill was a gift. For some reason he wanted to be with Sirius, to be touched and loved by him. Sirius was thankful. The rise and fall of Bill's ribs settled into a deep, steady rhythm and Sirius edged down, his cock falling limply onto the sheet. That was the miracle. This beautiful man had given him that beautiful experience. Sirius was incredibly thankful.

He slid onto the bed beside that wonderful body and admired it for a moment. Then he reached behind him for his wand to clean them, untangle the sheet and pull the blankets up over them. His eyes felt dry and his mind was succumbing to pre-dream hallucinations. He hadn't slept much last night. He rested his head on Bill's shoulder. It took a bit of wriggling to get his lower arm comfortable. Bill didn't wake, though. He threw his arm over the broad chest and stared at his love's face for as long as he could while he let the fog of sleep drag him down. Good. Very Good.

When Sirius woke, Bill had gone. He could smell him still. He transformed into Snuffles and went over the bed linen, searching out scents. They were all fantastic. The best was the smell from deep inside Bill's arse. He filed it away with Bill's semen and sweat and pheromones and scalp in his doggy brain. It was so arousing that he had to turn back into a human to wank himself off. He'd been hoping to do that in the shower with his memories like he did most mornings, but he couldn't wait.

That night an owl brought a short note hoping he was OK and telling him Bill was busy. He came round briefly in his lunch hour the next day, but not the next day, though there were more owls, some carrying books and CDs. The Order meeting was on Friday evening as usual. Bill didn't think he was going to be able to get there early, but he would stay afterwards.

Sirius worked on remembering to eat and wash. He spent hours as a dog. He spent more hours working his way through all the music. Most of it he knew, but he was also being introduced to Bill's taste. These were all recent albums by bands Sirius hadn't heard of. Shed Seven and Blur were pretty good, Pulp were growing on him, but he didn't take to any of the rest of it.

"It's like punk never happened!" he snarled at long guitar solos.

He arranged the discs in order of preference along the top of his chest of drawers. Then he wrote out some of his favourite lyrics. Then he arranged them all alphabetically by title. on a newly empty shelf in the sitting room which had recently contained dark objects. He moved them to the mantelpiece, in a little tower for their year of release. He was just about to alphabetise them by band name when Friday evening came round and Order Members started turning up.

Sirius took his usual seat and watched everyone file in. Bill was one of the last and he looked stressed. He smiled round at a few people, maybe the one for Sirius was broader and lasted longer than the others, or maybe Sirius imagined it. What he wasn't imagining was a tension in the atmosphere round the table. Dumbledore brought them briskly to order and tried to start into the usual business.

"Before we start, there's something I'd like to discuss," Arthur said firmly, though he was clearly nervous.

"Can it not wait?" Dumbledore asked.

"No, I think we need to clear the air before we can get on."

Dumbledore nodded and all heads turned to Arthur, sitting between Molly and Bill in the middle of the side opposite Dumbledore and Snape.

"I've found out that Severus Snape called a secret meeting of a few Order members this week. Without informing the rest of us."

There was a mixture of reactions to this, but Sirius clearly saw Snape giving Bill an accusing look.

"It was me who told him. Just so nobody's wondering," Moody stated from the far end of the table.

"Is there a problem, Arthur?" Slimus Snape whispered in that voice he imagined sounded dangerous.

"Yes there is. We all need to be given whatever information is available. And we need to trust each other. We never had confidential sub-committees in the old days!" Arthur rejoined hotly.

"You're making it sound like we were plotting or something!" Tonks objected. Her hair was darkening and her features becoming more angular. "It was just that there were some rather sensitive things which Severus needed to tell the Aurors. Noone else needed to know!"

Moody growled, "It's not up to Mr Snape to decide who needs to know what. That's the point!"

Molly spoke up then, "We won't know who needs to know what until one of us finds ourselves in a dangerous situation without something ... The point is that we should trust each other!"

"And of course we do, Molly, dear," Dumbledore soothed.

"It is Albus who decides who needs what information, not myself. I have reported all my findings back to him," Snivellus purred.

The two sides glared at each other over the table. Bill was staring down into his lap. Sirius wished that he could have joined in the attack against Snape.

"Kingsley, you were at this meeting. What is your position?" Dumbledore asked.

"The information was too sensitive to have been delivered in any way other than face to face, and too urgent to wait until a full meeting could be called. But I don't see any good reason why we can't share what we know with the full group now," Shacklebolt replied, his voice deep, even and reassuring.

"But it looks like we're not trusted, all this cloak and dagger stuff," Molly complained.

Remus was sitting next to Sirius, as usual, and now he spoke up. What he said was a surprise: "That might be a sensible precaution, Molly. We did trust all the Order Members last time. And look what happened."

Arthur and Molly looked over, shocked. Their faces settled into expressions of disappointment.

Remus added, "There will aspects to all our missions which might be best kept confidential."

Sirius wondered if this was what his friend was really worried about. He spoke less and less about what was happening with the were-wolves. He was getting closer to their seat of power and that was not likely to be a pleasant place to be. Knowing Moony, it was easy to get complacent about lycanthropes, but most of them were not sweet natured and mild mannered like he was.

"I suppose you support your parents?" Albus asked Bill.

Bill kept his eyes cast down. Severus was watching him, those dark eyes glinting a warning.

"I don't know. I wasn't here last time. How would I know?" Bill muttered.

"Your opinion is nonetheless valuable," Dumbledore prompted, gently.

Bill looked up. He glanced at Snape, then avoided all the other faces round the table but looked directly into Dumbledore's.

"I'm sure you know what's best. What needs to be 'Needs to Know', whatever …" he trailed off awkwardly.

He looked down again, avoiding his parents' faces. He was the only one in the room who couldn't see their hurt, surprised, betrayed expressions. Snape looked quietly delighted.

Dumbledore gathered some other opinions from round the table. He sounded resigned when he said to Sirius, "I expect I can guess your stand. If you were to support Severus it would be the first time." There was some laughter.

He wanted things the same as they'd been before, in the old Order. He wanted to agree with Arthur and Alastor. He hated the way Severus used knowledge as power and played people off against each other, trading information like Goblin Gold. And he really wanted to help bring about a humiliating defeat for Severus and his methods. But he couldn't, could he? What would happen to Bill if he did? Sirius held his head high and directed his first comment at Snape.

"On the contrary, I can appreciate that some times there is the need for discretion. It won't always be a good thing for Order members to be informed about everything. I trust you," his last sentence was to Dumbledore.

"Good," the old wizard answered, twinkling and smiling. "Well, I shall bear in mind the feeling of the meeting on this matter when future circumstances arise. However, I retain the right to decide what shall become public among us."

The smirk on Soapless Hooky-Nose Smugerus' face was unbearable.

The business of the Meeting began. Sirius concentrated on calming his breathing and controlling his nausea as progress was reported. This was why the greasy git had decided to keep quiet about Sirius and Bill. He had a hold over them both. Sirius didn't even dare to look at Bill in case someone noticed.

Hogwarts was being infiltrated by the Ministry, Voldemort was gathering together his old supporters and trying to find new ones. Remus looked confident when he presented some of the were-wolf thinking on the subject, but he got uncomfortable when questioned about how he had got close enough to find out things.

Dumbledore turned to Bill then, and Sirius figured it would be OK to look in his direction. The poor boy looked unhappy, his hazel eyes dulled and his skin grey under its tan.

"Not good, I'm afraid," Bill delivered in a flat voice.

His parents looked over at him then. They still looked annoyed with him.

Bill continued, "The information last week. I don't know how reliable it is. I did put caveats in the report. I've been checking up on Babwinde and he might not be … the best source."

"Are you saying you lied to us?" Snape said slowly. Only four people in the room knew that he spoke in layers.

"Not advertently," Bill rallied. He was sweating.

"It must be hard," Snape mock-sympathised, "to keep track of everything. I do hope you haven't got any distractions. You do know how valuable your work for the Order is?"

"As valuable as everyone else's," Bill snapped back.

The sneaky Slytherin looked over to Sirius when he said, "On the contrary, some of us don't have much to keep us occupied at all."

Sirius bared his teeth, but said nothing. He was sick of being goaded. As sick as he was of staying imprisoned and having nothing to do.

"The Death Eaters know the form of your Animagus, Black. Pettigrew has provided full descriptions to everyone. It's not safe to go out. Do you understand?"

How had Snape taken over the meeting? Why wasn't Dumbledore stopping him? How dare he give orders?

"I trust you don't need a babysitter to keep you busy and out of trouble. Perhaps you'd like to choose yourself one?" Snape sneered.

Sirius was being reminded of the power Snape had over him and he it would be very dangerous to react. His blood was boiling and he had to swallow down a growl.

Sirius sneaked one look over at his lover. If anything, he looked to be finding it even more difficult to keep his temper. He was digging his nails into the surface of the table, his face had gone bright red and his jaw was working.

Remus patted Sirius' hand soothingly. Bill glared daggers at Remus.

Dumbledore moved on to 'Any Other Business.'

When the meeting broke up and the members started to gather their papers and stand up, Snape leaned over to the stationary, fuming Bill and sneered, "Not rushing off? Staying on here for a while?"

Bill leapt out of his seat as though it had bitten him and rushed from the room.

Remus stayed on for a drink. He tried to sympathise as Sirius sulked, but it was unconvincing.

"He's not very good at this, is he?" he commented. "Perhaps he shouldn't try to keep a bit of rough on the side if he hasn't got a poker face?"

"It's not funny. Slimy git."

"That's not a nice pet name!" Remus cracked up at his own joke.

"I meant Snivelly. You know full well I meant Stinky Snape!"

Sirius went in search of vodka, stomping on every step down to the cellar. He was roughly under the kitchen fireplace when he heard a whooshing sound above him and Remus called out mockingly, "Hey! Pads! Your boyfriend's back!"

A lightness rushed through him and he ran back up the way he'd come.

Bill's head was in the fire. He looked apologetic. Sirius' stomach sank again.

"Is it safe? Can I come through?" Bill's head asked.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes," Sirius yipped.

Remus gave a disgusted snort. He left the room saying, "I've got an initiation to attend."

Initiation? Did he mean ritual? With were-wolves? What would that entail? Concerned, Sirius followed him to ask, but he'd already gone.

Bill Flooed in and stepped out of the fire, shaking the soot off his glossy hair. Sirius was transfixed. Moony was right. He was obvious and pathetic.

Bill held open his arms and Sirius ran into them.


	16. Chapter 16 It's a Dog's Life

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

It's A Dog's Life

"Not rushing off? Staying on here for a while?"

It seemed as though every person in the room could hear Snape's words and knew what they meant. Bill got away from the insinuating Potions Master as swiftly as he could.

He found himself on the front steps at the same time as his parents. His mother looked up at him with narrowed eyes, his father completely avoided acknowledging him. Bill stood still to let them get ahead and the sharp wind slashed at his overheated cheeks. He knew what his parents' attitudes meant: this was the 'wait 'til I get you home' routine. He had enough to worry about.

One of the bank clerks had been off work for a couple of days without letting anyone know why. Bill had called round at his place and there had been no sign of life. Dundas Bindloss. It was too early to call it a disappearance. If he couldn't locate him by Monday evening then he was going to have to inform Dumbledore and then it would be official. Like the ones who'd gone missing last time. That was, apparently, how it had started.

He was disappointed in Babwinde. He hoped the goblin was just a fantasist, but was starting to worry that he had been set up deliberately. What would that mean? He was being observed when he was at work: beady goblin eyes burning into him. He felt like retreating into Fleur's little post room all day. But he had to work and he had to spy.

And he was worrying about Sirius doing something risky again. He wished he had more time to spend with him. Keeping the Animagus occupied would keep him safe. But, of course, that wasn't the whole story.

Bill watched his parents cross the square towards the Apparition point. He ought to catch up with them. He didn't like letting them down any more than he liked handing that slimy git Snape a victory. But now he had no choice. He was at the man's mercy.

An elbow caught him in the lower back and he stumbled down the steps.

"Holding up the traffic," Mad-Eye muttered behind him.

Bill righted himself and strode across the road. Moody kept pace with him.

"Whatever it is," Moody snarled out of the side of his mouth, "either come clean or work on your discretion techniques. We can't have division in the group. I was counting on you, boy. Fresh blood. Don't let me down."

He made a right turn and limped off.

Oh, yeah, that was what he was short of, something else to worry about!

Molly looked back at him and then Apparated. Bill counted to ten and followed her.

He let himself float for a moment before he concentrated on home. He liked the empty darkness of Apparition, just atoms without sentience, suspended through space.

The kitchen of The Burrow was chilly. Molly pulled a huge baking tin out of the oven. There were three places set at the long table running down the middle of the room like the one at Grimmauld place. Irritated, Bill wondered to himself why they couldn't just shrink the thing during school holidays.

Arthur stood with his back to the fire watching Bill. He took a deep breath. Not now!

"Now, look here, son …"

"Not now, Dad …"

"Don't you tell me when …"

Mrs Weasley interrupted them, clanging the tin onto the table. "Just sit down and eat this, we'll deal with …"

"I'm not hungry, Mum. I'm going upstairs."

His mother summoned three plates as though he hadn't spoken.

"Sit down!" she ordered.

"No!"

"Don't talk to your mother like that!"

Their voices were getting louder and their faces redder.

"Don't be silly, Bill. Just sit down and eat. You can't expect your father and I to get through this much Toad-In-The-Hole on our own and it doesn't keep."

"I'll have it later! I just need a bit of peace …"

"We are going to talk to you whether you sit down and eat with us or not. Tonight at the meeting, I was ashamed. I don't know what's got into you. I'm not going to let good food go to waste while you …"

The dam broke and the fury came yelling out of him: "Can't you bloody leave me alone woman! Stop nagging and fussing! I'm old enough to choose whether to eat or not! I can make my own decisions! It's my fucking life! No wonder Percy escaped!"

Molly burst into tears. Arthur stood up, fists raised, shaking with fury. Bill Apparated.

He had no idea where he was heading for. Fleur or Sirius? Or the pub? His parents would expect him to go to The Leaky Cauldron so he wasn't going to fulfil their expectations. It would be sweet to lay his head on Fleur's lap and have her feed him cheese and wine. He could tell her all his troubles and she would nod and hum sympathetically. Except that he couldn't tell her half his troubles: the Order, Sirius, Snape, Voldemort, Babwinde nor why his parents were angry with him. Grimmauld Place then. Sirius' strong arms round him, hands running over him. But how many Order members were still there? Was it safe yet? He needed to make a decision soon or he'd splinch himself. A bed in St Mungo's for a week? That was tempting. Or maybe he'd split neatly into two and Sirius and Fleur could have half each.

His feet hit solid ground and he looked about him. He was in the alley at the back of the Leaky Cauldron. He was disgusted with himself. His subconscious had deposited him where his parents would have predicted.

He stomped into the pub and pulled his bag of coins out of his pocket. He waited for Tom to serve him.

"Floo powder, please," he said, handing over a sickle. Exorbitant, but Tom's fireplaces were charmed not to accept anyone else's powder.

"They're all free," Tom advised him, looking through the drawer under the counter. Of course they were. They would be busy later tonight when the clientele realised they were too drunk to Apparate and had no other way of getting home. That was why the scam worked.

As Tom handed over the little hemp pouch he asked, "You want a drink with that?" and Bill was tempted. But he shook his head.

He went into the emptiest back bar. There were three middle-aged witches in there, sipping something green and chatting quietly. He nodded politely to them, then knelt in front of the fire and whispered "12, Grimmauld Place," before throwing in a pinch of green powder and pushing his head through the flames. His heart rate increased in the expectation of seeing Sirius.

Instead he came out beside Remus' ankles. The werewolf looked down at him, startled. His features then settled on disdain.

"Hi Remus, Sirius around?" Bill forced relaxed friendliness into his voice.

Without answering, Lupin stood up and yelled, "Hey Pads! Your boyfriend's back!" in a sing-song voice.

Bill's gut twisted. He hated all that 'Padfoot, Moony' bullshit, all that referring back to the larks of their schooldays. Together. With their real friends. Without him.

Sirius came up from the cellar. At least he looked happy. Bill hoped that Remus was the only guest in the house and that he'd be gone soon.

"Is it safe? Can I come through?" he asked.

Sirius nodded, his eyes shining. "Yes, yes, yes, yes."

Relieved, Bill pulled back into the pub room. There was a swift movement behind him. He turned to see the three women stiffening and angling their heads towards each other. They had probably been ogling his bum while his head was elsewhere. Normally he wouldn't have cared, but tonight he was easily annoyed. He scowled at them before Flooing out.

The basement kitchen took form around him. He could feel the soot in his hair. On the other side of the room, Sirius gazed at him. Now, that felt good! He spread his arms and, as he had hoped, Sirius came over to him. He gripped the bony shoulders and held the beautiful body to him. He sank his head down onto his lover and felt hands slide round to his buttocks.

They stood, motionless and unspeaking, for several minutes.

It was Sirius who broke the silence, breathing into Bill's ear, "What's the matter, baby?"

"Oh everything!" Bill sighed. He added, "Except you." It was a lie - a good handful of Bill's problems came down to his relationship with Sirius - but it seemed polite.

Sirius pulled his head back to look at what he could see of Bill's face. It obviously wasn't enough because he pulled his arm out from under Bill's to gently tip his chin up and examine his face.

"Never mind," Sirius cooed, "you come to Papa Black and I'll make everything better."

Bill smiled in a way he knew was pathetic. Then he asked, "Remus?"

"Gone," Sirius said. "Let's go somewhere comfortable."

Sirius leaned against the propped pillows and Bill lay across him, his knees and neck supported by Sirius' strong arms. He curled round with his face in the older man's chest.

"You want to talk?" Sirius asked.

"Not really. Not now," Bill mumbled.

"OK then," Sirius whispered. He leant over the lovely red hair and lightly kissed the top of Bill's head. Bill looked up at him, but he was too close for focus. Bill closed his eyes and felt soft lips touch his temples, then his nose, his cheeks, finally his mouth. He felt a lot better already. Even though he hadn't shared it, his burden was lighter.

Bill's legs slipped down onto the bed as Sirius' hand moved up to his shirt, undoing the buttons and kissing the skin as it appeared. When the cotton slipped off his chest, Sirius moved his hand down to the hard lump distorting the front of Bill's trousers. His mouth continued to play over collarbone and nipples.

Bill groaned and pushed himself closer. His hands stroked through the black hair tickling over his body.

"I want …" Sirius said in a choked voice. He didn't look up, stayed concentrated on Bill's torso. "I want to … make love again." He managed.

Bill's anus twitched. He recalled the fire and the complete lack of control or consciousness.

"God, yeah!" he panted. Just in case there might be any confusion, in case Sirius could have meant anything else, he added, "Screw me again. Please!"

Sirius looked up then, his eyes huge. Bill lunged for the dry, red mouth and they fell together flat onto the bed. Teeth clashed and tongues writhed.

After several minutes, Bill pulled away and said, gasping, "But I want to sleep with you afterwards. I want to stay all night."

"Yes," Sirius answered, softly, desperately.

"I have to …" This was embarrassing! He wasn't a kid! "Have to tell Mum I won't be home."

Sirius nodded and shifted off him. They both sat up, while Bill tried to compose himself to send a Patronus. While he flicked his wand, he said the message out loud, like a seventh-year. If he'd tried to do it silently, there was every chance his subconscious would have stuck in something unhelpful like 'cos I'm shagging Sirius'.

"Hey Mum! I'm sorry about what I said earlier. I've been under pressure, just need some time to myself. I'll be back for lunch tomorrow. Don't worry. Love to Dad."

Sirius watched him. "What is it?"

Bill didn't understand the question.

"Your Patronus. It's what you'd be as an Animagus. I just wondered."

Bill grinned, "I'll Patronus you some time. Let's just say I could play with your dog if it came to it."

"What did you say to your Mum? You don't have to tell me," Sirius added quickly.

Bill sighed. "I'm such a prick! I lost my temper, said I agreed with Percy or something."

Sirius pulled a face. Bill was about to say something like 'Yeah, yeah, I know, let's not talk about it,' but Sirius didn't need to be told. He leant in to resume their kiss.

With lips locked, they peeled off their clothes, rubbing their bare skin against each other's bodies as it was freed. Bill heard Sirius panting and groaning, felt the vibrations inside his mouth. The contractions of his throat told him that he was doing something similar.

When Sirius rolled himself over to the bedside table for the lube, Bill turned over onto his belly. He moved his head to look at his lover. Sirius' excited eyes ran the length of Bill's body. Sirius licked his own kiss-bruised lips.


	17. Chapter 17 Barking Up The Wrong Tree

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

APART FROM REMUS, WHO BELONGS TO JULIE.

_Author's Note: I've rather set myself up with the question of Bill's patronus. I just put it in to the last chapter because I wondered myself what it might be. I couldn't see it on HP Lexicon and don't remember anything from canon. I'm open to suggestions._

_WARNING: May Contain Tonks._

Barking Up The Wrong Tree

Sirius found that his wet tongue was running over his lips. His right fist clenched convulsively round the tube he'd just picked up. Bill was laid out naked on his bed, looking golden and perfect. The pale fur of Bill's body hair gave the impression of a halo of light, or an Aura of goodness. His white buttocks were framed by the light brown skin on the rest of his body. Sirius huffed hot breath over the lips he'd just moistened.

Steady hazel eyes looked straight at him. The look was relaxed, gentle, fogged with lust and affection. Bill looked vulnerable and as though he could think of no position he would rather be in. It was as dirty and sweet as a dream come true.

Sirius was drawn to the smooth skin of the firm bum. He positioned his face over it and gently bit. Bill gasped. Sirius kissed it better. Bill hummed happily. Sirius lay down beside his man, also belly-down, his hard cock pushing into the mattress beside Bill's shoulder, his head on Bill's arse.

He placed little tongue-tip licks around Bill's coccyx before lapping flatly down between the cheeks. When he slipped over the anus, there was a groan and a push back against his face. But Sirius moved away from temptation, on down, fingers joining lips on the seam of the taint and remaining there while his mouth worked on the ginger-haired balls.

As Bill moaned and panted, he grabbed hold of Sirius' leg, digging his nails into the outer thigh. Something soft hit Sirius in the head. A pillow. Bill lifted his hips and attempted an uncoordinated shove. Sirius stopped what he was doing to manoeuvre the pillow. His hand lightly stroked Bill's hard cock on the way past. Then Bill's rear was positioned. He was displayed and available and Sirius reminded himself that he was the only man who'd ever seen this.

As Sirius climbed into the space behind Bill, Bill raised his leg, gently moving it up into his lover's crotch. Sirius pushed into the contact. His cock pulsed. Bill massaged Sirius with his thigh as Sirius rained kisses onto Bill's butt.

Haphazardly, Sirius slopped lube onto both of his hands. He was on the verge of losing control and was aware that he still needed to be gentle. He slid his left hand against the pillow until he reached the place where Bill's prick dipped it. He wrapped his slippery hand round the shaft and moved slowly in the confined space. Bill's hips shifted to give him better access, making his arse come up closer to Sirius' other slicked fingers.

He rubbed round the hole, briefly, before pushing in the first finger. To start with there was resistance, but then the muscle yielded and Sirius' digit was firmly grasped. He circled it at the tip, in the soft, warm space. The combined sensations on his right index finger, his pumping left hand, the noises Bill was making and the stroke of the thigh muscle against his groin were already almost too much.

Hurriedly, Sirius moved off Bill's leg and positioned himself kneeling behind his bottom. He had to minimise his contact with that perfect body now if he was going to last any amount of time inside it. He rubbed his thumb over the head of Bill's cock as he added the second finger. He wiggled and scissored because he wasn't going to manage to wait for a third.

He edged his body closer and Bill, thrashing with need, pushed his back. Sirius freed both his hands to hold Bill's hip while he lubricated, then positioned his penis and pressed it in. He was encased in hot tightness. They both groaned out in the same note at the same time.

He needed to get the position right almost immediately, before he lost himself completely, or he'd never hit the prostate. He tried to remember from last time, but the angles were all different. Bill's moan told him when he'd hit the jackpot and he gave himself over to thrusting. Thought was gone; feeling was all.

His arousal intensified rapidly. One thought made it through the lust. He wanted to feel the spasms of Bill's orgasm around him before he had his own. He grabbed at the space between their legs, aiming for Bill's prick. Instead he touched his own. He could feel his overheated, overstretched skin moving in and out of Bill's sweating flesh. He tipped his head to see it. The vision of him shafting his Adonis was too exciting and he came immediately, screaming obscenities.

He regained consciousness spread-eagled over Bill's back and apologised.

"Nothing to be sorry for."

"Came too soon."

"It's fine. But now …"

Bill turned onto his side and Sirius slipped off him. It took him some seconds to realise that Bill was finishing himself off by hand. He took over. It was a matter of only a few strokes. Sirius looked between the agonised ecstasy on Bill's face and the fountain of spunk exploding out of him.

After a quiet moment, Sirius asked, "You really staying? All night?"

"Unless you decide to get rid of me."

There was no point in even answering that. Sirius straightened the bedclothes and tucked them round them both and then they slept. When the morning sun woke them they still had their arms over each other's backs.

Sirius made breakfast in bed. Well, he went down to the kitchen and yelled at Kreacher until the food was ready and then carried it into the bedroom. Which was almost the same thing. They fed each other scrambled eggs and marmalade toast and coffee. They lounged around reading the Saturday Prophet. Then they had a bath together and washed each other's hair. All the while there was fumbling and stroking and sucking and snogging.

Before Bill went home, just after midday, they had one last, long, intense kiss. It left Sirius in a daze that lasted the rest of the day. He woke early on Sunday full of energy and happily attacked the housework. He went into Buckbeak's room and gave the Hippogryph the attention it had missed out on the day before, as well as clean straw and a brush down. What it needed most was some exercise, but there was nothing he could do about that.

The front door was knocked in the afternoon and Sirius dashed down the stairs. He forced himself to stop and do some steady breathing before he answered it. It wasn't going to be Bill. Not at the weekend. He was still a little disappointed to see Tonks there.

"Wotcher Cuz! Thought you could use some company, I know I could. I brought afternoon tea."

He certainly did want some company. He liked his brave, funny, clumsy second cousin and wanted to get to know her better. If he couldn't have Bill (and today he couldn't) then she was a pretty good second choice.

They ate scones with jam and cream, cucumber sandwiches and tiny mushroom quiches, which Tonks eventually admitted her mother, not she, had made. They poured Earl Grey out of a silver teapot into bone china teacups and did crude, humorous imitations of the stiff table manners of their shared aristocratic ancestors. Afterwards they retired to the drawing room with snifters of best brandy. Tonks kicked her shoes off and lay back on the settee where Bill and Sirius had explored each other's bodies just over a week before.

Their hysterical giggling had subsided and they sat still, calm and relaxed.

Tonks sighed. "The Ormerods have disappeared," she said. "Constance and Edgar. No sign of them for a fortnight. It's happening again."

Sirius gulped at his brandy. He had predicted that it would be like this. They were not a couple he knew. His heart sank nonetheless. Soon people he cared about would start to go missing and bodies would be found in houses with Dark Marks floating over them.

"What's the Ministry's response?" he asked.

Tonks looked over at him warily before replying: "They're going to blame you."

Anger surged through his body, but it was swiftly replaced by exasperation.

"Of course," he replied. "Notorious mass murderer and madman on the run from Azkaban. I've gifted them that, haven't I?"

"Well, at least it's not Harry's fault for once!" Tonks forced a laugh.

"Poor little sod." Sirius shook his head.

Tonks turned her hair black and a lightening scar appeared on her forehead.

"Stop it! That's just disturbing!"

Tonks laughed and changed her appearance. Sirius noticed some grey streaks in her now brown hair. An odd choice for a young woman. It reminded him of someone.

"So, cuz! You know Remus Lupin pretty well, don't you?"

That was who she looked like. She was staring away, towards the ceiling.

"For years. Most of my life. He's my best friend. Why?"

"Tell me about him."

Sirius felt uneasy, but replied, "He's a were-wolf, as you know. He's my age, thirty five, has no money, no dress sense," why was he focussing on the negative? "He doesn't like ketchup, knows nothing about Quidditch and far too much about the Goblin Wars. He's prissy and particular. I mean, what do you want to know? He's a half-blood .." Ooops! His roots were showing. He hadn't meant to sound superior when he said that word. And why mention it? Oh, and Tonks was a Half, too, wasn't she? "Erm, like you. So that's good. Why do you want to know?"

Tonks started to blush before turning her skin black to hide it. Sirius couldn't understand that tightening round his chest.

"You don't think …" Tonks started and then stopped. She sat up and looked Sirius in the eye. "You don't think there's any chance he might like me, do you?" she asked.

Sirius said quickly, "Not his type."

"But I can be any type!" she whined, changing her hair from short and dark, to long and blonde, her skin through a wild array of tones, her nose-shape from cute to Roman to hook. Then she gave Sirius a start by sprouting ginger hair just like Bill's, with freckles to match. Luckily for his sanity, this didn't last long before she morphed into the Pocahontas look. She was making him dizzy.

"It's not just about appearance!" he snapped. What was wrong with him? She fancied his best mate. That should make him feel all warm, not frozen like this. He stood up and looked out of the window.

How could he warn her off without spilling Remus' secret? He had to spare his cousin the heart ache and indignity of falling for a man who wasn't interested in women. But wasn't he? There had been girlfriends before Sirius. He didn't know what had happened since. At one time they had thought that they knew each other inside out. But they hadn't really, had they? After all, Remus had spent a third of their lives believing his supposed best friend capable of horrendous crimes against people they had both cared about.

Sirius sat back down and looked at the young woman on his settee. "I was away for a long time. I don't really know what his type is any more. You're a lovely girl. Why wouldn't he like you?"

She smiled and her hair sparkled with girly pinks and lilacs.

She stayed late and he woke up with a hangover on Monday morning. He was up and dressed by midday, but Bill sent an owl with a message that he wouldn't be able to get away from work at lunch time.

The house became empty and oppressive. Sirius prowled it, hating everything. He could feel the old melancholy starting to descend.

He marched purposefully down to the cellar and climbed onto the top of the mangle. He balanced there carefully and stretched up to open the coal hole, before transforming into a dog and leaping through it.


	18. Chapter 18 The Dog Catcher

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

_Welcome back GwenhyforBeatie_

_Warnings: Brief het fluff. Thoughts verging on bestiality._

The Dog Catcher

Bill walked down the front steps of Gringotts with his arm round his girlfriend. It was the end of the day, but there was still bright, crisp sunlight in Diagon Alley.

"Where would you like to go, then?" he asked her.

"Where ever you sink, Beel. I know you will make zee right shoice," she breathed up at him.

Her accent was so delightful. She wanted him to constantly correct her, but he enjoyed her frenchness too much. He loved the way she deferred to him. There wasn't another English person to whom she would have entrusted a decision about food. She thought he knew things, listened to him, let him guide her, looked up at him with those shining eyes.

He stopped walking; she stopped walking. He put his hand on her hair and looked right at her.

"Have you ever had Thai food?" he asked.

At least that way if she didn't like it they could both be superior about someone else's cuisine and he wouldn't feel compromised when he failed to defend his mother's traditions.

"Zat would be so exciting!"

She stretched up on her toes and gripped his arms. Her face was open and lit up. Her innocence gave him such a rush. He wanted to introduce her to everything and to be the hero in all the adventures she gleaned from the everyday. Her features were delicate and perfect, her figure slim, her hair shining. He hoped that there were plenty of men watching them. He loved the burn of their jealousy.

He took a quick look round. Laden shoppers were heading home, store owners were closing up. They were getting the usual looks. Men admired Fleur and glowered at Bill, women did the exact opposite. It felt good. He was turning back to watch Fleur entwining their fingers when a movement in an alley caught his eye.

His internal organs froze: there was a large, black dog sitting in the shadows by the side of Quality Quidditch. This wasn't supposed to happen. His life was in safe, distinct compartments. His mind flashed at him the view of himself and his blonde as it would look from where the dog was sitting. Nausea rose.

"What eez eet, cher?" Fleur asked.

More importantly, of course, he thought, when his synapses started firing again, it was very dangerous for Sirius to be here. The Death Eaters knew what his Animagus form looked like.

"That dog. It's not meant to … I mean I know the owners …" Owners? What a strange idea. Nobody owned Sirius. 'But he's mine' thought a dangerous corner of his brain. Bill mustered clarity, spoke again: "It lives on the other side of London. I'll have to get it back there."

"Where are its people? Why ees eet you 'oo 'as to …" Her language skills were falling apart. They did under stress. What stress? His must be showing, she was worrying about him.

The dog in the shadows started to move back off down the alley. If he went running off round the streets it would probably kill him. Bill ran, Fleur followed. The dog sat down.

"Ah! Such a lovely looking dog!" She reached out a hand to stroke it.

Sharp teeth snapped at her hand. Shocked, she started back.

"Bad dog!" Bill said firmly.

The mutt whined, nuzzling up to Bill's leg. It pushed at his hand with its nose.

"'E likes you." Fleur's voice was approving.

If she knew how much, she wouldn't have approved at all. Bill checked out the street for Death Eaters. How could he tell?

"It's not safe for it to be out," Bill explained.

"Zee Muggle traffic ees so dangerous."

That too.

"I'll have to take it back. Wait here. I won't be long."

"But 'ow? Eet ees impossible to Apparate wiz an animal," Fleur reminded him. "Is a long walk, I zink."

The dog licked Bill's hand. Absent-mindedly, he stroked its head. He needed Sirius to transform back into a man so they could Apparate. But he couldn't do it here. If even one person saw Sirius' face the street would erupt in panic. He would be instantly recognisable as the Notorious Murderer back on the front page of the Prophet today following the Ministry's announcement that they were blaming him for all the disappearances. Dundas Bindloss was now officially one of them.

But now Fleur knew that Bill had to get an animal from one side of London to the other. If they did Apparate she would be suspicious at how quickly he had returned to her. He wanted to be alone with her right now.

"Have to be the Knight Bus," he sighed.

There might be Death Eaters on the Knight Bus. He ought to put a Glamour on Snuffles. But there was no way to do it now without arousing suspicion.

"I weel go 'ome."

"I'll come round. See you there?"

"Eef is not too late. Don't worry about me, Beel. What you do is good."

She smiled her pretty smile up at him and Apparated away. Bill stuck out his arm and, with a clanging noise, the bus came bumping down the marble steps of the bank. The dog wagged its tail.

"Bill Weasley! How you doing, mate?" Stan Shunpike asked.

"All right, all right, Stan. How's business?"

"Mustn't grumble. Getting on?"

Bill put his hand on the scruff of the dog's neck.

"I'm sorry. I can't let that animal on, Bill."

"Stan! Please!"

"Rules is rules, mate. You can't bend them. You was Head Boy, you should know that!"

Bending rules was exactly what Bill had done as Head Boy. Especially for those he'd bent over. But Stan wasn't to know that.

"No animals?"

"Nothing bigger than a lap dog. Not safe to have them on the floor, not hygienic on the seats."

Stan spread out his hands as though they were tied at the wrist.

There was a slowly building grumble coming from inside the bus. The other passengers were complaining about the delay.

"He can sit on my lap!" Bill announced.

Stan looked doubtful. Bill grabbed Snuffles and got on the bus anyway. The doors closed behind them and the lurching began. Bill got an arm round the dog's chest and it sat down, forcing him to put his other hand under its rear. He stood up. Oof! Heavy! The breath was knocked out of him and he staggered to the nearest armchair. He had to pull the warm, furry body close to stop it from falling off. He smiled up at Stan as though he were perfectly comfortable.

"Sorry, Bill. Rules. It is a lovely dog, though. Is it yours?"

The wagging tail whipped Bill across the upper arm and enthusiastic dog pants blew over his face.

"No," he answered obstreperously.

Stan put out a hand and Bill tensed. But this time Sirius moved his head into the pat. His ears folded back onto his head as Stan stroked down his back. Bill's gut clenched and he gritted his teeth.

"Where to?" Stan asked.

That wasn't something Bill was keen to announce to a bus full of strangers. He glanced out of the window. They were travelling along a bleak mountain road now, tall pines on either side. Bill gave the London postcode for Grimmauld Place. That seemed to be enough for Stan who just nodded and held out his hand for the money. Bill had to push his hand under the dog's arse to get at the coins in his pocket.

When Stan moved off, Bill leaned back in the chair. The dog put its head on his shoulder and snuggled into him. Bill got both arms tight round him to stop him from falling off when they sped round the sharp corners. Warm breath puffed onto his neck. Sirius' breath. Dog breath.

He should have been in a civilised restaurant now. Fleur would have gazed adoringly at him over the wine glasses. He would have been warm and comfortable. He was unhappy that Sirius had seen them together. Sirius was supposed to stay locked up, safe and out of the way. He was meant to be available when Bill wanted him, had time for him, and not to go looking for him when it was inconvenient. Bill hated himself for thinking like that. He hated the old Pureblood ways.

He ran his hand down the long, black fur on the dog's back. Just like Sirius' hair. The eyes, staring into his, they were the same, too. That broad, red, wet tongue hanging out was the same one that had licked Bill's chest, his neck, his cock. But it was lying over sharp dog teeth and black lips. It was in a face with a wet, black nose covered in black fur. It was a dog, for Merlin's sake, an animal. Bill wasn't Aberforth!

He remembered the Muggle park, a fortnight ago. Snuffles, Sirius, Padfoot - whoever - had been sitting on the parched grass licking his genitals with that tongue. Bill couldn't work out what reaction would be appropriate to that.

He chuckled, remembering the old joke. He put his mouth very close to the dog's ear:

"Stop me if you've heard this one before. A bloke goes into a pub, right?" His voice took on the traditional rhythm for telling gags to your mates in the pub. "And there's this dog there, licking his privates." His hands were surrounded by black, silky hair, fur, whatever. Under his fingers, the flesh was soft and warm. "So the bloke goes to the barman, 'I wish I could do that,' to which the barman replies, 'If you give him a bone I expect he'll let you.'"

The bony ribs in his grip shook lightly. Then that tongue licked its way up his cheek. The dog's bottom wriggled into his lap. Bill's body reacted inappropriately.

The dog that was really Sirius, shuffled round, changed position, exposed its belly to Bill. Its balls sat just off his knee. The bus stopped and an elderly wizard was helped off. They set off again with a pitching motion and Bill tightened his hold, looking down to see the dog's head bent down as it licked itself clean.

When they finally made it to Grimmauld Place, Bill carried the black dog off the bus and shot over the road to number twelve, with it still in his arms. His urgency gave him the strength to bound up the front steps and the first flight of stairs. As he threw his furry armful onto the settee, it transformed in mid air into a man struggling to undo his flies.

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_AUTHOR'S NOTE: I hope the hints at bestiality weren't too squink. I can't quite get my head round what's appropriate any more than Bill can. Was that OK? Review and let me know!_


	19. Chapter 19 In the Dog House

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

_Thanks to La Nuit for the chapter title._

_Warning: Swearing, sadness and smut._

_For allycat1186 for reviewing._

In The Dog House

Sirius transformed back into a human in mid-air. Unfortunately he was a fully dressed human. His hands went straight to his fly to try to rectify that. By the time he landed hard on the settee cushions he had two buttons undone.

"Shit, Siz, what's wrong with me? Even as a dog you turn me on." Bill yanked down the waistband of Sirius' jeans.

Between them they got Sirius naked from waist to thigh. With a flat tongue Bill traced down the length of Sirius' swollen shaft, round his balls and up again, following the exact pattern the dog had used on himself. Bill was working faster, though, more urgently. His fingernails dug into his lover's buttocks.

Sirius growled with pleasure. He wished he still had his tail, because it would have been wagging huge slaps against the upholstery. He threw his head back over the arm of the sofa. His hair caught under his neck, pulling it.

Bill lapped down the valley between Sirius' testicles. He crawled up onto the settee, into Sirius' lap and twisted his head round. Sirius grabbed his shoulder, urged him up towards his prick but Bill was copying Snuffles. Sirius wished he could remember what had come next.

Bill twisted round again, trying to replicate the right angle of approach. Sirius swung him the rest of the way round to reach the zip on his trousers. Sirius yelped in ecstasy then as Bill's mouth came down onto the head of his overheated cock, tongue darting into the slit, sucking hard.

Sirius got into Bill's pants. Awkwardly, his hand found what he needed. Bill's hips bucked, thrusting towards him. For a few desperate, panting, sweaty minutes Bill sucked and Sirius rubbed. And then they climaxed together.

Once Bill had got his breath back, Sirius knew he was going to get smacked on the nose and told what a bad boy he was for getting out. He decided to speak first:

"So, it's Fleur Delacour."

Bill shot him a wary look. "Yes," he grunted. He dragged his long legs back to his end of the couch.

"I recognised her from the Prophet last year."

"Yes."

"When she was Beauxbatons Champion."

"That's right." Bill eased himself into a more upright position.

"So she's the famous girlfriend is she?"

"Clearly. You shouldn't have tried to bite her."

"I wasn't going to bite her. So. She was her school's Champion. Last year." Sirius kicked at the denim gathered round his shoes, pushed both off to free his feet.

"We've established that."

"Meaning she was still at school last summer."

"Oh, I see!" Bill's voice was low and tight. "You think that's a problem?" he snarled.

"You don't think she's a bit young?"

"I think it's none of your fucking business!" Bill shouted. "She's closer to my age than you are!"

"That's not the fucking point! We're both adults!" Sirius yelled back.

"Then why don't you act like one? Instead of running all over London trying to get yourself killed! You want to be back in Azkaban? You want to be tortured by Death Eaters?" Bill stood up. His face was red. He was shaking.

"It's up to me what I …"

"And I'm not even supposed to care? Fine!" Bill pulled his trousers back up and headed for the door.

"No! Stop! Where are you going?" Sirius tried not to whine.

Bill kept walking as he snapped, "I'm going to take my girlfriend out for dinner." He smoothed down his shirt and his hair, headed for the front door.

Sirius shouted down the stairs after him, "Don't forget to ask for the Children's Menu!"

The front door slammed shut.

Naked from the waist down, Sirius stomped up one flight of stairs. He remembered leaving an almost full bottle of vodka in one of the bedrooms.

"Terribly bad manners, all that shouting."

"I forgot you were in here!" Sirius told the purring portrait. He unscrewed the lid and gulped down alcohol.

"Cover yourself up, boy!" Phinneas Nigellus Black ordered, making a great show of averting his gaze. Sirius concentrated on filling himself with the clear spirit, ignoring the request.

"You know why he got cross, don't you?" Phinneas asked. When his descendant didn't answer, he added, "You broke one of the rules."

"There aren't any rules!" Sirius lay back on the bed Bill's brother Ron had slept in for the summer.

"Don't be silly. You're both Purebloods, even if you are Blood Traitors. You both know exactly …"

Sirius didn't like where this conversation was going.

"No," he said, "we don't do all that out-dated crap! That's not what this is!"

Phinneas sighed impatiently. "It's your heritage. These things can't be wiped out by a little dalliance with fashionable politics. He's quite right - a child bride's the best choice for breeding. You should be doing the same thing. I suppose it just goes to show how the family's standing has fallen. You should be the one keeping a Boy."

"I'm not his Kept Boy!" Sirius sprang from the bed, gripping his bottle. He'd escaped these traditions! This was not happening to him!

As Sirius fled the room, the voice called after him, "The mistress doesn't criticise the wife! Rule number three!"

The Old Pureblood Patriarch ways. A wife and a mistress. The wife was always a witch, for breeding and alliances with other Pure families. But the mistress could be a Boy. He'd been brought up hearing the stories: Great Uncle Librus who'd kept one Boy in County Galway for the fishing and another in the Highlands for the shooting; Orion Regulus Black who'd been so feared in the eighteenth century that he had got his Boy a place on the Wizengamut.

There were numbered rules, ways things were done. The mistress was kept in a separate house and plied with gifts. Sirius stared at his growing collection of C.D.s. He poured more alcohol into his mouth, hoping to sterilize away his thoughts. The wife could insult the mistress, but the mistress never spoke of the wife, any more than their bastards ever inherited.

How aware was Bill that they were mimicking the relationships of their ancestry? Was that how he saw Sirius? A poor man's whore? How low down the hierarchy did that place him?

Absently, he picked up his Discman, his gift. He selected Bill's favourite: Pulp's His and Her's. He had to decide what to do. He could salvage some dignity. He could stop seeing Bill. He didn't know if he had the strength. He sank onto the sofa and took another drink.

If he couldn't keep his hands off Bill's body, then he would have to be more careful. He would have to make sure that he didn't become more trouble than he was worth. He would have to keep to the rules. It wasn't what he was used to, he'd always done whatever he felt like. He pressed play.

How many rules had he broken today? Criticising Bill's choice of girlfriend, spying on them together, snapping his teeth at her. He should have stayed in the house like a good Boy, waiting on his master's convenience.

He glugged booze, eyes shut, hearing Bill's favourite music. His life was a mess. It hadn't always been such a mess. He'd had his own wife once. The gender had been wrong, but that's what they'd been to each other before the horror, the betrayal, prison, escape, aging.

Music poured into his ears, singing, "Do you remember the first time?" Sirius did. He remembered the worn school bed curtains, the smell of boy, nervous fumbling, silver scars shining on the body underneath his. The joy.

He emptied the vodka bottle, his eyes still closed, still remembering the first time. That light gasp of surprise. The soapy, salty taste of skin. The singer had moved on to the next track, he was asking Sirius if he'd "Got it right first time?"

There was sound of a door closing. Sirius saw someone walking over to him. He was so drunk on nostalgia and alcohol that he didn't see the grey in his friend's hair.


	20. Chapter 20 BitchSlapped

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

_Warning: Remus Lupin might seem a bit out of character. My excuse is that it's nearly his time of the month. Nasty werewolf alert. Grrrr!_

Bitch-Slapped

The best thing about having a row, Bill thought, was making up afterwards. He'd been impressed by Sirius' temper. He could yell like a Weasley.

Bill hadn't taken long to calm down after the argument, but he'd gone out with Fleur anyway. He didn't want to look like he needed Sirius so badly that he would come crawling back straight away. He decided to give it twenty four hours. That should be long enough for them to miss each other.

Fleur had spent dinner telling him how kind and responsible he was for looking after someone else's dog like that. Then she moved on to what a gentleman he was. All the other men she'd known had been bewitched by the Veela in her. Bill was the first who had bothered to get to know her as a person. He could see past her physical beauty. She loved that about him.

Yes, he felt a bit guilty. But he took the praise. He had no intention of explaining to her what made him less susceptible to her charms than most other men nor his real relationship to Snuffles. After he walked her home, they'd kissed on her doorstep. He had got into it, he really had, it was just that he'd been keeping a wary eye out for a dark dog in a doorway.

This morning at work, he had slipped into her little post room, stroking her hair and holding her tiny, soft hand. But by the end of the day all he could think about was coarse, dark, messy hair and a calloused hand big enough to squeeze both his balls at once.

He left work early and Apparated straight to Grimmauld Place without telling Fleur he was leaving.

Remus Lupin answered the door, looking strangely smug. Sirius came up the steps from the basement behind him. He didn't look happy. It was probably their argument the night before that was making him look so shifty, Bill decided.

Sirius said quickly, "Remus was just leaving."

"I just got here," Lupin corrected.

"Didn't you have things you needed to find? Upstairs?"

The three of them stood, awkwardly, in the hallway. Bill wanted to be alone with Sirius, to get the apologising over as quickly as possible.

"You not going to help me?" Lupin asked. He looked pointedly at Sirius, paying Bill no attention.

"You know which was Regulus' room." Without meeting his friend's gaze, Black turned and walked back down the basement steps. Lupin looked at Bill then, his expression something like amusement. Bill headed for the kitchen.

Sirius stood with his back to the room. The set of his shoulders was stiff. His pale, skinny arms rested on the range's rail. Bill's eyes stroked the familiar dark hairs on them.

"I'm sorry I lost my temper last night," Bill started.

Sirius swung round and bounded over to wrap his arms round him.

"No, I'm sorry. You were right, I was wrong. I'll never say anything about her ever again. I'll never question anything."

Bill wished he could see Sirius' face, but it was pressed against his shoulder. He hadn't been expecting complete capitulation.

He murmured into the dark hair he loved so much, "I was so worried. I'm scared something's going to happen to you. You're safe here. Stay here."

They could hear Lupin moving things around upstairs and a shuffling in the boiler cupboard. Bill tuned out everything except for Sirius' breathing. He was clinging too tight. He smelled of stale booze. Bill stroked his hand down the long back.

"The master's unnatural affections again …"

The door to the boiler cupboard was open. Over Sirius' shoulder, Bill could see the crumpled face of Kreacher peering out of it.

"Leave us alone, Kreacher!" Sirius grumbled.

"The other one it was last night. Touching his nakedness he was."

Bill felt Sirius tense. He couldn't quite process what he was hearing.

Something fell into place and he pushed Sirius' head up just in time to watch his guilty expression as Kreacher added, "The werewolf it was last night engaging in his depravities."

"No, I … wait, I can …"

Bill ignored Sirius and ran for the basement steps. His stomach was closing down. A voice in his head was saying, "What do you expect? You've got no right to feel possessive. What made you think he was yours?" But his body clenched. His head filled with hot fury. And his eyes stung. He could hear footsteps pounding from two directions behind him, gaining on him as he made the front door.

Then, Lupin's voice, "You stay here! I'll get him," just before Bill slammed the front door behind him.

He ran at top speed across the square, not knowing where he was going, his brain had shut down. His body pulsed with adrenalin and nausea. He had no right to feel this devastated. As he was turning into a side street, his sleeve was grabbed.

Bill had been running at top speed. Lupin was slight, ten years older and looked permanently knackered, but somehow he'd caught him. He was the last person Bill wanted to see just now.

"You and Sirius? Last night?" he panted.

Lupin's eyes twinkled. He laughed as he answered, "Oh, yeah!"

Bill saw red and swung his fist. Lupin caught it and held it in a grip that was surprisingly strong. Bill found himself being pushed against a wall.

"You forget what I am, Bill Weasley." Sharp white teeth glittered dangerously close. "You can't fight a werewolf."

Bill struggled, fear and fury overtaking him. He was young and strong and not used to losing fights, but the short, grey-haired man dragged him easily into the dark passageway by the side of a shop. He twisted Bill's arm up his back and shoved his face against the brick.

"He's mine. He's always been mine." Hot breath whispered into Bill's ear. "I let you borrow him, but I can have him again whenever I feel like it."

"No!" Bill choked. He was desperate to run away, to not know.

"You should have come back last night. I could have showed you how it's done!"

"Don't need …" but Bill didn't know what he was trying to say.

Then Lupin grabbed his hair and pulled, scraping his face against the rough surface until they were eye to eye again.

"I fucked him on the sofa …" Lupin began, menacingly.

"_You_ fucked _him_?" Bill could believe it! This was the ultimate betrayal. Bill had let him, only him, but he said he'd never …

If Lupin paused, Bill didn't notice, his head was too full of rage and humiliation.

"That's right. I rammed it in his arse so hard he screamed. I pounded into him …!"

Bill vented a screaming growl, anything to block out the words, to try to stop the pictures that were forming in his head.

"And he loved it! He called out my name as he came!"

Bill yanked his head down and ducked out of the werewolf's grip, leaving a fistful of ginger hair behind. He stumbled a few feet down the side of the shop and Apparated away.


	21. Chapter 21 Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

IF 'ORDER OF THE PHOENIX' HADN'T BEEN SO LONG, SHE WOULD HAVE INCLUDED ALL THIS HERSELF!

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

The warmth and comfort of Bill's body slipped from Sirius' grip. He chased after, across the kitchen and up the steps. As Bill sprinted through the hallway, Sirius was pulled back.

"You stay here! I'll get him," Remus shouted, pushing Sirius into the wall.

Then there was silence. Even the portraits were quiet for once. Sirius was alone. Remus was right, of course. Bill would be even more angry if Sirius went outside again. He hoped Remus would be able to find Bill and bring him back so they could explain everything.

He watched the front door for a long time. This was all Kreacher's fault. Why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? Bill didn't even need to know. Bill had to come back now and they could explain and then Remus would go away and Sirius would find a way to make it up to Bill.

Remus had better find him! It was all his fault in the first place. Sirius had been too drunk to know what was going on. Why had Moony done it? It hadn't been worth it. It hadn't been worth anything much.

After forever, there was a knock at the door. Sirius let in a Remus who glittered with energy and adrenalin. He could see he was alone, but he asked anyway:

"Couldn't find him?"

"No. I've been looking all over. He must have Apparated really quickly."

That was that then. It would have to wait until the Order Meeting on Friday. Bill would be furious if Sirius tried to owl or Floo Call. They had to be discrete at all times. Sirius sloped down into the kitchen, not caring that Moony was tailing him. He dragged a chair in front of the fire and glared into it.

"Never mind," Remus started. Sirius hated him for it. If Remus had left him alone then everything would have been OK. "It's probably for the best," his so-called best friend added, "it's not like there was any future in it. When the war's over, he'll have his girlfriend and you'll have me."

Sirius snorted. He didn't want Remus any more. He heard the scrape of a chair being pulled out, but he didn't take his gaze from the flames.

"Just the two of us. It's better like this, isn't it?"

Better? Merlin! It was a disaster.

"What the hell were you playing at last night, Moony?"

A nervous laugh, then: "Do I need to answer that?"

"I was paralytic and you come in and start groping me!"

"You weren't complaining!"

"I was too pissed! I was semi-conscious!" And feeling maudlin and nostalgic.

"You managed to get it up."

"Did I?"

"Oh, come on, you were laid out half-naked -"

"I wasn't expecting you to walk in!"

"Weren't you?" Remus paused. He seemed to be thinking. Sirius tried not to think. He pictured Bill's face in the flames, the way it had been the other night. Ginger hair blending with orange flames …

"You were pretty keen on him?" Remus asked, pensively.

Why was that in the past tense? Sirius just nodded, refused to look round.

"You kept saying his name, murmuring it, and then when you climaxed …"

Sirius did look round then. Why hadn't Moony stopped when he'd known it wasn't him Sirius wanted? Angrily he snapped, "That's not surprising, is it? He's a lot younger and better looking than you are."

Remus winced. They stared at each other in silence. Remus was calming down, deflating. Sirius was furious with him. He wanted to break him down further.

"You claiming I molested you?" Remus asked. "You never told me to stop!"

"I never encouraged you, either!"

"It was only a fucking hand job! You looked like you were enjoying it!"

Not much. He couldn't be held responsible for a physical reaction. He'd been sad and drunk. And there had been no reason for Bill to find out about it.

Remus sighed. "Look, I'm going to be locked up for the next couple of nights. After that, though, we'll talk. You'll see. In the long run. It's for the best. Just us two. We don't need anyone else."

Sirius felt an inferno of rage well up from his guts. For the best?

"Just us two? You haven't a clue!"

Moony was still purring, placating. "When things settle down, it'll be just like the old days."

Sirius didn't feel like protecting his old lover any more. He'd carried the guilt alone for too long. And now he hated his friend: "It was never just the two of us! All the time … almost from the start … all that time we were together … from school until … I was screwing James on the side -"

"You're only saying that 'cos you're angry, 'cos I just took away your new toy." Remus was shaking his head, refusing to listen.

"Yes, that's why I'm saying it now, but it's still true!"

The silence was chilling. Remus' face crumpled. His mouth worked but no sound came. Sirius enjoyed seeing him collapse. His temper stilled a little.

"Why?" Remus finally managed.

Sirius' anger wasn't all directed at his friend any more when he answered, "Because we were a couple of cocky pureblood heirs, used to getting whatever we wanted."

He'd had a lot of time to think about this. He had so many theories now.

"But why did you want him?" Remus whispered, his voice breaking but his eyes still dry.

For the fun of it? Because it was illicit? We were following the patterns of our ancestry, each the other's Boy? Or the answer that would wound the deepest?

"Don't you remember what he looked like? Fit, handsome, golden -"

"Perfect skin?"

Sirius just nodded.

"Unlike me." Moony stuck a paw in his mouth, started worrying at his nails. Now he was the one staring into the fire, refusing to meet the eyes of the man he still loved. "The whole time?" he questioned.

Sirius was going to batter Remus with the truth now. He didn't care how much it hurt. Bill was gone and it was all Remus' fault.

"Within weeks of us two getting together. You know how James hated to be left out of anything. Through that last year of school. Did you really think Quidditch practice took that long? Right up to the end. Once a month. New moon. Whenever we could manage in between. The last time was a few weeks before they died. In the graveyard at Godric's hollow. On the grave stone of some forebear of his. Ignatius or something. He thought that was funny."

"You selfish bastards!" Remus hissed. "What about Lily and Harry?"

"It killed them all." Sirius was quite calm now. This was the part that really hurt and he'd carried the knowledge alone for too long. "That's why I couldn't be Secret Keeper. It wouldn't have held. I'd already betrayed her. And I couldn't ask you, because he'd broken your trust. The magic would have failed. There was only Peter left. And we know how that turned out."

They both watched the fire and ignored each other. Eventually Remus stood, his chair clattering to the floor, and he stormed out of the house. Sirius remained for a long time, sitting motionless and allowing the misery to wrap itself round him.

On Friday, Bill arrived late and left early, without once looking in Sirius' direction. Remus sat as far from either of them as he could. Another week passed and still Sirius didn't manage to talk to Bill. It was then that he realised that he'd lost his best friend as well as his lover. It became increasingly painful to make it from one end of the empty day to the other, prowling round the prison of his mother's house.

He'd lost almost everything that still meant something to him. He tried to be a good Godfather to Harry, but Harry was so far away. Most days Sirius had nothing positive to think about or do. All lost for the sake of a maudlin hand job. And it was all his own fault.

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_Come on people! You didn't think Lupin was telling the truth did you? It's not all over though. I promise that there will be more smut in the future. The more reviews I get, the quicker I'll get Bill and Sirius back together! _


	22. Chapter 22 I've been Working Like a Dog

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

_Author's Note: I'm afraid it's a bit short and smutless this time. Things will get better again, I promise. Also, please forgive any weirdness: I completed it while recovering from having a wisdom tooth removed. I'm still numb around the tongue, actually. _

I've Been Working Like a Dog

Bill was shaken roughly in the early hours of the morning. He drifted between consciousness and sleep, catching an occasional word:

"…snake … Ministry … Dumbledore … told him to be … St Mungo's … Arthur …"

He pulled his eyes open and tried to make sense of what his mother was telling him. His father? St Mungo's?

"Dad?" he asked.

Her face was wet and she was talking too fast.

"For Merlin's sake, concentrate Bill," she snapped, "this is Sirius!"

Except that he knew full well that what she'd said was 'this is serious'. How long did it take to recover from a three week long affair that had been over almost two months?

"Dad?" he asked again.

"Yes, at St Mungo's. He was attacked on guard duty by a snake."

"Snake?"

"Just get dressed as quickly as you can and we'll Apparate to the hospital."

He pulled himself up from the low single bed as she left the room. He missed Egypt. He missed his wide divan, enclosed by its white mosquito net and covered in silk pillows. And he missed the United Nations of young men who had passed through it. Almost as much, he now found, as he missed one tall, dark, gaunt Animagus.

Dressed and on his way to the door, he passed the bed which had once been Charlie's and kicked it because his brother had managed the permanent escape for which he yearned.

At St Mungo's they were asked to wait in a corridor while Arthur was made comfortable enough to receive visitors. As they sat on the hard, plastic chairs, Molly told him about Harry's dream and how Dumbledore had sent 'the children' to Grimmauld Place.

"Well, it's closer. So they'll be staying with Sirius," she did say his name that time. "Can you take the morning off work to sit with your father while I supervise them? Then we can all come here this afternoon. You'll need to pack a few things …"

"Where am _I_ going?"

"I do wish you'd listen. We're all moving into the Black house while your father's in here …"

"But I can Apparate from The Burrow! Come to that the twins can …"

His mother's voice became shrill. "I can't leave them to their own devices. Sirius has been very kind but I can't expect him to baby-sit …"

How old were they? He'd been babysitting them at that age. Just because he was the eldest …

"I still don't see why I have to --" sleep in the same house as my ex and his boyfriend.

"Bill, please. I want you with me." She spoke quietly this time, pleading. He noticed the tension in her jaw, the pale skin and red eyes.

Some things were more important than his sex life.

"Of course, Mum. We should stick together. I'll stay with Dad this morning, then go to work for the afternoon, nip back and pack some things and meet you there in time for dinner."

She beamed at him and it was worth it. He would just have to avert his eyes when he passed Sirius on the stairs, concentrate on his food at meal times and when he was using that bathroom … well, he'd work something out.

"I know the twins are of age," she said, placatingly, "but they can't be trusted. Not like you. You've never given me a minute's trouble. You're my rock, Bill. You and Arthur. And now he's …" she couldn't vocalise it.

Luckily the Healer came out to talk to them just after that and Bill didn't have to produce a reply.

He had coped by throwing himself into his work - at the bank and for the Order - and wooing Fleur. He didn't blame Sirius. What they'd had hadn't been, well, serious (for want of another word). There had been no promise of exclusivity. Bill had had Fleur after all. It made sense for Sirius to decide to get back together with Lupin. It was only Azkaban which had separated them in the first place after all. Bill would rather have found out a different way. Still, it was for the best in the long run. They had had to stop messing about like that. It wasn't like there could have been any future in a relationship between men.

But he hurt still. He could calm himself down but that didn't mean he never got angry. He still thought of a different body sometimes when he was kissing Fleur. Soft was nice. But so was rough. He remembered, dreamt, fantasised about that other body. The hips, the hair, the face, the penis, the arms. He always looked twice at dogs in the street, but none of them were the right one.

He had only been able to stay reasonably relaxed by avoiding Sirius. The older man had tried to talk to him after Order meetings, but Bill didn't need to hear regrets. It would only make it harder to cope. He wished he could regret, but he was grateful that it had happened, that they had had those three weeks. He'd noticed that Lupin and Sirius always sat apart at Order meetings now. Couldn't trust themselves to keep their hands off each other otherwise.

Arthur was in a bad way when they went into the ward. He had been given pain-numbing charms and sedative potions, but he still bled through his bandages and his rasping breaths revealed that he was uncomfortable. He never complained, though.

The doctors didn't seem to know what they were dealing with and there was a limit to how much information it was safe to pass on to them. As Molly fussed with pillows and the like, Bill tried to hear what his father wasn't saying. He had been on guard duty at the Ministry. Secrecy was important.

Unfortunately, during the morning Arthur slept a lot. Molly had gone off to Number Twelve. Bill would not have been quite so tense had she said a little less about how good Sirius was being, how he might have his faults but his heart was gold, how kind he was underneath it all. It was easier when she complained about his rebelliousness, rudeness, dissolution, temper. Bill liked to tell himself that his parents would never have been able to reconcile themselves to his choice of man. He was going straight for the sake of family unity.

It was even harder when she mused that what Sirius really needed was the love of a good woman. It was, apparently, such a shame that he was stuck in that house where he was never going to meet anyone suitable. He had been so handsome in the old days -according to Molly - Azkaban had taken a terrible toll on his looks and it would be very difficult for him to attract a mate.

Bill loved Sirius' jutting bones and his hollow cheeks. He longed to drown in those fathomless eyes again.

He tried to concentrate on the his poorly father as he slept: to work out his injuries and treatment. Unfortunately, nobody seemed to understand much about his wounds yet, so there was little to concentrate on.

So he thought through the attack itself. What were the implications for the Order? He would have had more to work on there if his father had seen anything.

There was Gringotts. He was working really hard there. But he knew he was being sidelined. The goblins were now reluctant to trust any wizard and he was constantly fobbed off with mountains of mundane paperwork. Dundas had never reappeared and now others were going missing. A few had whispered to him that they were going into hiding, others were certainly Disappearances orchestrated by the Dark Lord. Many could have been either. Loveday Pappillon from Muggle Liaison hadn't been in to work for nearly a week. He didn't want to dwell on work any more.

But he had to have something to occupy his mind. He knew that otherwise he would think about Sirius. He laid his head back in the chair and tried to doze, to catch up on his lost sleep. The back of his eyes became a screen onto which were projected images of his time with Sirius. As with his dreams, only half of them were sexual. Again and again, memories of their one night and morning together would sneak up on him. They had fed each other toast and washed each other's hair. Like a proper couple.

He would have that with Fleur. It would all be fine.

The only thing he regretted from those three weeks was the bottoming. He had never done that for anyone else. What he regretted was the years he spent denying himself that intense pleasure. Ironic that he had been introduced to it by the last man he would ever sleep with. For he was determined to go straight from now on.

_______________________________________

_If I could coerce them into bed together, you know I would. But what can I do? To help us get through this fallow period, I will provide some Onanism in the next chapter. OK? _


	23. Ch 23 Can't Teach an Old Dog New Tricks?

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

_Author's note: Thanks for all the reviews! I love the reviewers who have been with this fic for a long time and it's very exciting to have so many new reviewers too. I love you all. _

Can't Teach an Old Dog New Tricks?

Company! Finally! And (wouldn't you know?) he smelled like a brewer's armpit.

As soon as his guests left for the hospital, Sirius ran himself a bath. He needed to be clean and presentable and sane. That was the minimum required for a happy house party. Which this wasn't, of course, and he really was as concerned as everyone else about Arthur. Poor Arthur who'd been attacked by a serpent while on the guard duty that everyone had kept insisting was safe and boring and nothing to worry about.

The night had been tense and he had hated falling out with Fred and George, but some part of Sirius had experienced a reawakening. He had other people around him again. During the long wait he had become aware of the degree to which he had let himself and the house go again. He couldn't remember the last time he'd changed his sheets. Not that anyone was going to be going anywhere near his bed. Probably ever again in his life.

Sirius stepped into the bubbly water. On a little table beside the black enamel bath, were shampoo, soap, and his wand. Under it, his clean towel awaited him. All organised. He set about lathering soap onto his feet and was struck by his toe-nails. Good thing he'd remembered the wand. He summoned his nail-clippers and snipped away the claws, using his wand to set the clippings ablaze. He didn't want them in the water when he washed his hair.

Tonight he would not suffer a solitary supper. He would have Harry and a table-ful of Weasleys, including maybe … but not definitely …. But he would come here some time surely, and then they could talk and then … But best not to hope. Nothing stung like disappointment.

Sirius rinsed out the shampoo by sliding his head back under the water. He opened his eyes on the way back up and saw the silver shower head hanging over him.

Bill had stood under cold water streaming out of that, gasping, his grey pants clinging wetly to his skin, tenting tellingly. They had tangled together on the bottom of this very bath. Sirius had cast "_Finite!_" to stop the water from pouring into Bill's eyes.

Sirius soaped up his two hands. More cock to clean after those memories than there had been before. He rubbed both hands up his shaft, his skin singing back to him. He pulled up the foreskin, lifted his hips to push onto his palm, then pulled it right back. He stroked one foamy hand over the end, round the head. He worked slowly, still trying to half kid himself that he was washing.

He dunked a cupped hand, filling it with bath water, then clasped it round the hot, smooth end to rinse off. He'd end up stickier than when he'd started.

He was filled with visions of Bill as usual: naked, golden, freckle-backed Bill, ginger hair released from its band, hazel eyes misted by lust, the slightly paler skin of his upper arms, the dark, curling redness of his pubic hair. He always ended up at the same vision, as he clenched and stroked himself, that of Bill laid out, bum in the air, with Sirius' length thrusting into him.

How had it felt to be Bill there? With Remus and with James, Sirius had never wondered that. They had liked what they had liked and he had been happy to be of service. Moony had never suggested swapping places. James had insisted that he could top with Lily, he came to their secret assignations for something different. That had suited Sirius. He had never desired a thing inside him. A dick in his mouth was OK - was great - but he stayed in control. It wouldn't have crossed his mind to trust someone with the soft delicacy of his inner parts.

But Bill had been the same as him. And then, when Sirius had breached him, it had been no sacrifice, really. Bill had loved it. Sirius was sure he had. Nobody could fake that well. What had it felt like to be Bill?

One hand stayed to squeeze and tug his engorged shaft and his mind was still fixed on Bill's body but, for the first time in his life, Sirius slipped a finger between his scrawny buttocks, through the coarse hair, to the slightly raised, puckered skin protecting his hole. He rubbed at it lightly and snagged himself with his fingernail.

He tried to forget about it, to finish himself off, but it was all wrong now. He sat up, swearing, and sat on his hands to still their instinctive movements. He swallowed, concentrated on breathing steadily, tried to calm. He wasn't helped by the sight of his prick bobbing half out of the water.

He wanted to know how it felt. He couldn't fuck himself but he could finger himself. He could make the decision, in advance, just in case. He needed to know now whether it might be what he wanted.

He slid his hands out of the water and picked up the clippers. It wasn't like he expected sex any time soon, but he was going to give himself hands that would be ready, even if he was only going to have sex with himself. He trimmed the nails of fore and index fingers short, shaped the others into smooth talons for scratching hard-clutched, sweaty skin.

He should use some sort of lubrication. He wanted to stay in the bath. It was warm, relaxing, soothing. Lube would wash off. Soap? Was that a good idea? Would that be a healthy thing to have swilling round inside him? Maybe the water itself would do the trick?

He had managed to turn himself right off. His prick hung flaccid between his legs again. He laid his head back and closed his eyes, topped up the hot water. He was too nervous, this wasn't going to work.

Trying to imagine that it was Bill's, he ran a hand through his hair and then across the hollow of his cheek. The fingers of his other hand slid over his rib to a nipple. He recalled the urgent scramble on the landing outside this door. As he thought about kissing Bill, he circled his tongue in his own mouth. The hand on his face slid caresses lower over his body.

It was working, he was hardening. Briefly, his triumph at this broke the mood, but he focussed his thoughts on the settee in the sitting room across the hall. Ignoring his cock for the time being, he fingered the space behind his knee. He wasn't sensitive there, but Bill was. He recreated Bill's low moan.

Then he let his hand drift higher, into the dip between hip and pubic bones. He made a noise almost like a growl. His other hand slipped distractedly from one nipple to the other. He pinched it hard, scratched with the long nail of his ring finger.

Remembered the shower, Bill's hand holding off, fluttering over his own cock and then his nails digging into his thigh, Sirius repeated the movement as exactly as he could manage. Then, as Bill had done, he let himself grab hold of his now straining dick and pump rhythmically.

While he distracted himself with his right hand, he slipped the fingers of his left into his mouth. He knew it was coming. He was too old to try something new. A jolt of fear shot through him, shivered, and faded away. He pulled his fingers from his mouth and reached round behind himself.

The angle was wrong. He had to come in the front way, pushing past his wanking fist, which was becoming erratic and ineffective. He focused. Bill's pale arse, its golden glow of hair, the tight hole. He massaged his own. He was in!

It didn't feel like much at all. It would probably be different with someone else's fingers. So that's what he imagined. Bill's finger. He moved in and out in time with his right hand. He wouldn't last much longer. His thumb moved over his weeping slit at the top of each stroke. He pushed in another finger. The friction inside shot unexpected sensations through him. He ground down involuntarily. Visualised Bill's prick in him. Came.

Panting, he opened his eyes. The shower head still stared down at him.

Not bad. Nowhere near the prostate and still not bad.

He was going to need a shower now.

* * *

_Author's note: Yes? No? Too much? Not enough? I can't view it objectively. Please tell me - even if it's negative. I need to know!_


	24. Chapter 24 Man's Best Friend

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Man's Best Friend

Bill knocked on the dark front door nervously. He really hoped everyone was back from the hospital and that it would be someone from his family who answered. He had a small rucksack slung over one shoulder. Probably Molly had expected him to pack a trunk and shrink it into his pocket, but he didn't want it to look like he would be staying long.

The door eased open and Bill wanted the first sight it offered him to be of red hair. But all he saw was black: black hair, black clothes. The man inside glared at him, then smiled oddly. He swept away to the kitchen and Bill followed.

"Just the man I wanted to see."

"What are you doing here?" Bill asked resentfully.

"Come, come, Mr Weasley. That's no way to speak to me."

"I'm sorry. What I meant to say, of course, was what a delightful surprise it is to see you here, Mr Snape. Can I assist you in any way?"

"Much better," the Professor purred. "It would be a mistake for you to forget the duty you owe me. I have been entirely discrete regarding your ill-advised liaison. It would be a pity should I become disposed to behave differently." The look he gave was unmistakably threatening.

Bill lowered his gaze and forced his features into a mask of contrition. He knew he couldn't afford to lose his temper.

"You have ventured away from Hogwarts?" Bill asked as steadily and politely as he could.

"The Headmaster has requested that I obtain first-hand information on the health of your father. Have you seen him?"

Bill looked up. Surely Dumbledore was being kept informed by owl and Floo? Why would he mistrust the normal lines of communication? He was in no position to question the actions of the Order leader, so instead he replied simply, "I was with him all morning."

"Ideal!" Snape snapped, before striding across the room and taking a painfully firm hold of Bill's face. He forced it down until their eyes met. Bill's head raced with images from that morning. They flew uncontrolled through his mind. He did not dare to close his eyes. As he recalled leaving the hospital, Snape abruptly let go of him and walked back towards the fire.

Bill rubbed at his eyes, feeling violated and humiliated.

"Saves time, ensures accuracy," the greasy git sneered. "Don't worry, Mr Weasley, I was scrupulously accurate in the areas I examined. Many of your experiences, I am sure, would make for quite unpleasant viewing." His lips twisted even more nastily.

Bill clenched his fists. He stared at the floor.

"Such a shame your sordid adventures are at an end now," the Potions Master continued, leaning against the range, "Black was so much more malleable when he had an investment in my silence. Now he doesn't care how much trouble you could end up in."

Snape pouted with mock sympathy as Bill blinked back the red mist. Was it true? Did Sirius not care about him at all any more? Snape clearly had ways of knowing such things. The sallow face sank into a new expression, one of querying calculation. Bill waited.

"Poor Mr Black is quite isolated now. He has even managed to fall out with the lycanthrope. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

"What?" Bill hardly dared believe it.

"My erstwhile colleague, _Mr_ Lupin."

Bill didn't bother to inform the superior sod that he knew full well what a lycanthrope was, it was the broken friendship of which he had been unaware.

Instead he asked, "Since when?"

"Dating from the same time as your own rift with Black. Surely you knew that?"

Snape's eyes narrowed with suspicion. He strode swiftly across the tiled floor, but this time Bill was prepared. He looked at the black range behind the sweeping black cloak and let it trigger a memory:

Leaning casually against the range, Sirius had shrugged one shoulder, the movement pulling the hem of his shirt out of his waistband and revealing a quick flash of white skin.

Bill had quickly darted away from the table and ducked his head down in the same movement, pulling at the worn, black material. He had put his mouth onto the warm flesh, then encircled Sirius in his arms, his face in the warm neck, breathing deeply.

"I just want to spend the rest of my life in bed with you," he had said.

Bill concentrated hard, kept control of the direction of his thoughts, not allowing himself to be fully aware of Snape's hand on his jaw, the dark eyes beginning to explore his own.

He had felt Sirius' arms come round his waist then the other hand stroking his buttock. They had kissed a slow, plucking kiss. Bill had slipped his hand down the front of Sirius' loose-waisted black jeans and wrapped his fingers round Sirius' stiff shaft.

Snape made a disgusted choking sound and released him. Served him right. He should be more careful who he snooped on.

"How dare you …?" Snape was shaking with rage and revulsion. He wiped his hand over his mouth and then his eyes as though he could rub clean his inner eye. "That's the most … filthy, perverted … I don't want to know …"

Bill gave him his best innocent look, one he'd watched the twins perfect over the years.

"What did you see?" he asked. He kept his gaze vacantly on the range. That was where it had happened, after all, it was perfectly natural that he should have been thinking those thoughts in this room.

"You know perfectly well!" the Legilimens spluttered.

After a moment's calm, however, he narrowed his eyes again. He harrumphed. Bill tried to look as guileless as he could manage in the expectation that Snape was calculating whether Bill would have been capable of such determined thought-work. When Snape straightened and sneered, Bill knew he had got away with it.

"One-track mind," he muttered dismissively, confirming Bill's conclusion.

At that moment there was a loud crack. Fred and George appeared on the table. Snape raised his eyes to heaven as the exuberant adolescents performed a bum-waggling, arm pumping victory dance. Without a word he walked into the fireplace.

"Something we said?" asked George, raising an eyebrow.

"On the table, on the table, on the table," Fred sang.

George joined in for a few repetitions before they both noticed that Bill was standing with his arms crossed, lips pursed and one foot tapping. The resemblance to Molly must have been unnerving because it stopped the song like a bucket of frozen water.

"Apparated directly onto the table without splinching," Fred offered sheepishly.

"How's Dad?" Bill asked acidly.

"Could be much worse," George answered with a sigh of relief.

"Bit giddy. Thought he was, you know, and he wasn't," Fred explained.

Arthur was in better health now than he had been when Bill had left him, then. But Bill maintained his fierce look.

"He up to dancing on tables, is he?"

"No, Bill," the twins chorused, defeated.

"How come Mum let you Apparate back on your own?"

Fred and George looked at each other.

"Erm," was all Fred managed before the front door banged open and Molly's frantic voice screamed down the stairs at them, "Are they here?"

Bill called up, "Twins in the kitchen!" and tried to catch the teenagers to clip their ears as they leaped from the table and scurried up the basement stairs.

"Been so worried, thoughtless devils, as if I didn't have enough on my plate, just disappeared in the middle of a Muggle street …" Molly lambasted.

The twins were trying to apologise, to cut her off before she got going. Mingling with the voices were the sounds of other people arriving through the front door. One ran noisily up the stairs. There seemed to be an awful lot of people.

Inevitably, the noise level disturbed Walburga Black's portrait. Her screeches were added to the general din: "Blood traitors and their brats! How dare they pollute the purity of the house of Black? Toujours Pur! Half breed! Foul maggots devouring the body of our family home!"

So Lupin was with them. Bill was suddenly overwhelmed with tiredness. He shied away from the chaos, tempted to skulk in the calm, empty kitchen. Then he heard another voice and it pulled his tired legs towards the stairs as surely as a magnet pulls a paperclip.

"Sorry, Molly, still haven't found the unsticking charm. Shut up you old cow! How is Arthur?" Bill was unaware of the reply, or of any other sound but that deep, well-bred, gravelly voice. "Glad to hear that. Sorry, can't get the bloody curtain across. Thanks, boys. You two in trouble again? No, no, don't apologise. You were worried about your father, of course you confronted me. Very impressive, it was, Molly. That's better, that's silenced the old hag."

Bill walked steadily up the winding stone steps. Any minute now he would get his first glimpse of black hair and black clothes.


	25. Chapter 25 Kicking A Puppy

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Kicking A Puppy

Sirius was changing his own bed sheets when he heard the commotion downstairs. A woman was shouting, there were footsteps and slammed doors. _They'll wake my bloody mother's picture if they're not careful,_ he thought. He had just got the last corner of the linen tucked under when he heard her start screeching.

"Blood traitors and their brats!"

He gave a quick look backwards on the way out of the room: not exactly hospital corners but good enough considering he wasn't a House Elf and his was sulking.

He sprang speedily down the stairs, determined to pull the curtain and shut the old bag up as quickly as possible. Also, there was just the possibility, among all those Weasleys, wasn't there …?

"How dare they pollute the purity of the house of Black? Toujours Pur! Half breed! Foul maggots devouring the body of our family home!" The vindictive voice pervaded the whole house.

The door to Harry and Ron's room slammed shut just before he reached it. Adolescents! Somebody was having a fit of the dramatics, then. Even if it was Harry, it was probably best to leave him to calm down on his own for a while.

Sirius leapt the last landing and got within grabbing distance of the curtain flapping over the nasty hag's face. Molly Weasley was almost as angry, berating the twins. It always seemed to be them. He tried to interrupt her flow, saying, "Sorry, Molly, still haven't found the unsticking charm."

She acknowledged him with a nod, taking a deep breath as though to recommence her tirade. Sirius was yanking hard on the curtain but it wouldn't budge. He faced his mother to yell "Shut up you old cow!" then turned back to Molly to ask the most pressing question: "How is Arthur?"

Molly's face shifted through gears and settled into a concerned expression. What she said, though, was, "Better than this morning. Yes, I'm sure they're making progress."

"Glad to hear that." He really was very glad to hear it. He liked Arthur.

Mrs Black had a different response: "He'll die of his injuries and his wretched corpse will infect the soil …"

Sirius tried to shout over her, "Sorry, can't get the bloody curtain across."

In unison, Fred and George jumped up a handful of steps and started to haul away at the other curtain. They seemed to have grown even since the summer. They were strong and they put their backs into it.

"Thanks, boys. You two in trouble again?"

"Aren't they always?" Molly huffed, from below them, her temper spent now.

One of the twins - he couldn't tell them apart - said, "I'm sorry about last night."

"No, no, don't apologise."

He expected the other twin to speak next, that was usually the way it worked, but instead it was the same boy who insisted, "Don't want to fall out with you. We're on the same side."

"You were worried about your father, of course you confronted me." It had broken his heart, but the Order came first. He added, "Very impressive, it was, Molly."

One final co-ordinated yank and the torrent of abuse finally ended.

"That's better, that's silenced the old hag."

Sirius looked around. His hall was full. Most of its occupants had red hair, apart from Tonks and Remus, standing together near the umbrella stand. He looked away from them. He didn't want to see Remus and the man he did want to see wasn't there. And then a head emerged up the basement steps. He knew it immediately, from something subtle about the way it moved or the way it was held.

Sirius took a step down. Bill took another step up.

Then two things happened at once. Bill spotted Remus and froze, and Sirius found himself being pushed backwards up the stairs by one of the twins, the other one following close behind.

"What are you doing, George?" The follower asked.

"Doxies," hissed the one with his palm against Sirius' chest.

"Oh, yeah."

The twin who was closest - George presumably - got his mouth up to Sirius' ear and whispered, "Have you got any more? We need the venom."

As he was shoved onto the landing, Sirius looked hopelessly down into the hallway, where Bill had finally turned to face the stairs.

"Your mother got rid of them all over the summer," he whispered back, "good job, too!"

The teenagers looked deflated but still blocked his way.

"You sure there couldn't be any new infestations?" the one who wasn't George - so, Fred - asked.

Bill looked up. Their eyes met. Bill looked down.

"Yeah, absolutely certain. Have you tried Mundungus? He can get anything."

"Is he around?"

"Well, no but he will be. I owe him money. Something about some vodka I was meant to be storing for him …" Sirius gabbled, his mind entirely fixed on the man avoiding his gaze at the bottom of the stairs.

Luckily Molly saved the day: "Fred, George! What are you doing? Leave poor Sirius alone!" Then she earned Sirius' eternal gratitude by adding, "Sirius, I don't suppose you'd mind showing Bill where he's sleeping so he can drop his bag off, would you?"

Sirius decided on the room directly under his own. They tramped up the stairs in silence, Bill with that Muggle rucksack on his shoulder. Sirius opened the door and gestured for Bill to enter, attempting, and failing, to make eye contact.

Bill threw his bag onto the bed. Quietly, Sirius closed the door and stood in front of it. Bill looked up and they both took a deep breath. Then they both started speaking at once.

Sirius was so busy saying, "I want to talk about what happened," that it took a beat for him to register that Bill had asked: "You're not seeing Lupin any more?"

_What was that about?_

"Not since Azkaban!" he protested.

Bill looked flustered. "But I thought … he said … I thought you were --"

"Who said?" Sirius was outraged! Was that why Bill had been keeping his distance?

"He did. Lupin."

"You believed him?"

Bill looked shell-shocked.

_Bloody ex- so-called best friend! What else had he said? When had he said it?_

"Did … did you and he - I mean - you know, did you …?" Bill stuttered.

"Shall I tell you what happened that night? After you left? The last time?"

Bill nodded. _At last_! Sirius sat on the bed. He had to say it. But he was ashamed. He looked at the vile pattern of the carpet.

"After you left, I didn't get dressed. I did get pissed. I was listening to … It doesn't matter. I was on the settee, semi-comatose, half naked. He grabbed me. I didn't .. it wasn't …" _Not crying. That would be pathetic. Swallow it back._

Sirius had run through this moment in his head often over the last couple of months, but in none of his projected scenarios had Bill asked, "Did he rape you?" in a choked voice, the way he did now.

"No. He wanked me off. That's all. I didn't even tell him to stop, I was too far gone. Why did you ask that?"

"Lying little dark creature were-wolf bastard! Snivelling shit!" Bill thumped his fist into the wall. His eyes blazed and his face was crimson as he marched over to Sirius. "That's the truth?" he snarled.

Sirius was a bit scared and quite a bit turned on.

"Stay here!" he choked out and Apparated down to the hall where he grabbed Remus by the collar and Apparated back to Bill's room. He threw Remus to the floor and the two taller men towered over him. Remus lifted his greying head and looked from one of them to the other. There was no mistaking the fury in Bill's face and Sirius was sure his own mirrored it.

"You've spoken then?" Lupin surmised. He seemed to be talking to himself as he added, "I've been expecting this."

"Tell him the truth!" Sirius growled.

Moony began again, more breathlessly now, "Look, it was nearly the New Moon. I was in love …" then he stood up and laughed unexpectedly in Bill's direction. "I can't believe you fell for it! You don't know him at all."

Sirius felt the blaze of a fury sweep through him and reached for his wand, but before he could point it, Remus bent forward clutching his face. He writhed on the hideous carpet as something brown and leathery flapped its way out of his clenched fist and flew into the room. As he waved his hand ineffectually at the bat, another burst its way out of his nostril. And then another.

Sirius looked at Bill, impressed. He really could have been a Marauder.

Bill shrugged. "Weasley special," he said, coolly as Remus endured the escape of another bat from where his bogeys should have been.

"How long does it last?" Sirius asked, awed.

"I'll have to stop it before someone starts asking why I did it. _Finite Incantatum!_"

Remus kept one hand over his face as he hurriedly Disapparated.

For a moment, Bill and Sirius gazed at each other. Then Bill looked away.

"It doesn't matter," he muttered. "It was for the best. We couldn't keep seeing each other anyway."

Sirius felt like he'd been slapped. Unaware that he was moving, he slid slowly to a squat. He thought that everything had been made right. He had thought that it mattered whether Bill knew the truth.

"Look, I'm sorry I let him touch me --" he choked out, before Bill interrupted.

"Don't be," he said in a flat voice. "It's not that. I can't start that up again. I'm sorry. You knew I had a girlfriend before we ever … did anything. I can't sneak around cheating on her. I've asked her to marry me. I want a wife and children and all that. I want to be normal, Sirius. It's as well he stopped us 'cos I couldn't have done."

Bill moved towards the door, past Sirius' hunched figure.

"Fine!" Sirius spat out. Bill stopped moving and looked back at him. "You go and try to be straight!" Sirius stood up. He swallowed, then he continued, "I've watched a better man than you fail. This isn't the end. Every so often you'll weaken and end up in a fumble, or a bed, with me, and if not me, then some other man. The whole of your happy married life will be punctuated by sordid casual affairs like ours," he snarled.

"No!" Bill snapped back, "I can do this properly!"

"That was where you were supposed to say that our affair wasn't sordid or casual."

Whatever Bill's response would have been, they never knew, because it was at that moment that Molly came up the stairs, calling them down to supper.

They both spent the meal deep in conversation with the person sitting next to them. Remus wasn't at the table and Sirius fantasised vindictively about him applying ointments to a still-agonising nose.

Sirius went to bed immediately afterward supper, making some excuse to himself about giving the family time to be together. Harry was nowhere to be seen, so he must have been of a similar mind.

After seeing to Buckbeak, Sirius flung himself fully dressed onto his bed, refusing to cry, staring dry-eyed at the water-damaged ceiling until he fell asleep in spite of himself.

He woke again in the middle of the night. It was completely dark. A noise had woken him. He sat up quickly and reached for his wand. There came another sound: a light footstep. Even before he cast _Lumos_ Sirius could tell who was there.


	26. Chapter 26 Giving the Dog a Bone

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Giving The Dog A Bone

Bill stayed up late. Getting drunk. On his own.

Surely in a household this large he should have been able to find a drinking companion. But Charlie was in Romania, Dad was in hospital and Percy was … Well, Percy was just gone.

He mentally worked his way down the family until he was left with the twins. They were a bit young, he shouldn't be encouraging them, but he was desperate. After supper, though, the twins scurried off to their room and stayed there. It looked like whatever it was they had been conspiring about over the summer was still going on.

So Bill introduced himself to a bottle of Firewhiskey and made such good friends with it that they ended up going back to his room together. When the world began spinning they lay down on the bed together to watch the ceiling tip and swoop.

_On the other side of that ceiling …_Bill thought. _Don't think it! _he warned himself.

Bill kissed the bottle goodnight. He'd had enough to anaesthetise a cow. There was no way the insomnia was coming for him this night.

He rolled his head into the pillow and was assaulted by the smell of the house. His prick tingled. He pushed it into the mattress, which only made things worse, so he shifted onto his back to stare at the ceiling again.

_On the other side of that ceiling …_he thought. _Don't think it! On the other side of that ceiling …On the other side of that ceiling were the legs of Sirius' bed. And suspended between the legs of the bed were the springs. Lying over that was the mattress and on top of the mattress lay …Don't think it! _

His mouth was dry and his stomach queasy. The rest of his body had failed to inform his erection that he was ill, though. The Firewhiskey had been a bad choice of friend. As quietly and steadily as he could manage, Bill made his way to the bathroom. He cast a Silencing Charm, stuck his head under the basin tap and sucked down as much water as he could take in. Then he made himself vomit before forcing his memory to come up with the Sobriety Charm.

He was a mess; the bathroom was a mess. He could have a shower. That would be asking for trouble. Best to avoid the shower. Except that he'd started thinking about it now. He cleaned up and climbed the stairs back to his room.

It must be the middle of the night now, with nothing to stop him from sleeping. He undressed and slipped under the blankets.

_On the other side of that ceiling …_

He grasped hold of his stiffening cock. It wouldn't do any good, though. For two months he'd tried to wank away the hollowness. It hadn't worked then and it wouldn't work now, when he was separated from the object of his need by just some plaster and joists and a few feet of air.

He was barely aware of leaving the bed before he was opening the door. The draught coming up the stairs hit his naked skin and he snatched on his dressing gown. If someone saw him, he could claim to be looking for a bathroom, or he could fake sleepwalking.

As stealthily as a big cat, he padded up one flight of stairs. At the click of the door being pushed to behind him, the mattress shifted. It was completely dark, but Bill sensed the air move. He took a step into the room.

Sirius' sculpted face flared briefly by wand-light, before Bill snatched the wand and threw it under the bed. He heard an inhalation as though Sirius were about to speak. Bill pressed his thumb to where he knew Sirius' mouth was, feeling the lips sink softly onto teeth. The rest of his hand curled and his fingers found the hollow of the cheek.

Bill shrugged off his dressing gown. He felt the breeze of breath on his wrist. With his free hand he pushed Sirius down onto the bed. He climbed onto him, the body warmth under his feeling like putting his own skin back on.

As he replaced his thumb with his mouth, Bill smoothed his hand up the crevice of Sirius' cheek and pushed it into his familiar hair. A tongue pushed urgently into his mouth before he had had a chance to form his lips to his lover's. Unmistakeable, slim, calloused hands rubbed over his back, shoulders, down to his buttocks. As a palm slid to fit the dimple of his arse cheek, ribs rose under him and stopped, before starting to move faster than before.

Buttons nipped at his flesh. He pushed between their bodies to undo them, caressing the chest as it was freed. His coordination deteriorated with every second, until he ended up ripping the fabric of the shirt.

Then four hands fumbled against each other to undo Sirius' fly, not helped by the uncontrolled bucking of both of their hips.

In the struggle, their mouths fell away from each other and they grunted into air. As they shoved the tight-fitting denim down his sweaty thighs, Sirius nudged his nose behind Bill's ear and nibbled along Bill's jaw in a rhythm that had been running, unheard, through his body for months.

Sirius' nails scrabbled at the muscles of Bill's thigh, hauling it up to stroke behind his knee, causing a judder in every nerve. Sirius moaned, his hot body pushing up against Bill's. He could feel the hard, sticky heat of the other man's erection push into his abdomen and the slick resistance of bone against his own. Jerkily they wriggled their groins into each other.

Blind in the darkness, Bill ran both his hands over his favourite shapes, reacquainting himself with home. A strangled noise pulsed into his neck, and Bill shoved both his hands into the shifting space between their pelvises. Without awareness of which was whose, he took a cock in each hand. Long nails dug into his side as Sirius steadied him. Then time lost meaning as he pistoned.

Life exploded, fire and ice wordlessly worked their way through his body and he tremored to stillness with screams and teeth pushing into his shoulder.

His breathing became slow and deep, inhaling the house, the linen and the comforting scents of the body beneath him: His resting place.


	27. Chapter 27 Every Dog Has Its Day

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Every Dog Has Its Day

The last heir of the once-great House of Black ejaculated hard, screaming and biting down. He felt Bill curl comfortably around his body. Then he felt his heart break.

He had his answer, then. They were sneaking around in the dark, so a sordid and casual affair was what they were having.

He said, "Just because you don't speak and you can't see, it doesn't mean it didn't happen."

"I know," Bill murmured sleepily. "Don't want it didn't happen." Bill's breathing was deep and regular, he was on the shore of sleep. "Missed you," he mumbled. Then, just before he slipped out of sentience, "Love you."

Sirius felt his eyes widen uselessly against the darkness and his ribs freeze mid-inhale.

_Just the spunk talking,_ he told himself, _take no notice._ Still his heart thundered a drum beat.

He woke as grey light was seeping through the curtains, with dry lips pressed against his cheek. Bill was kissing him, leaning over the bed in his dressing gown.

"See you later," Bill whispered. "Got to work. You were right. I missed you so much. And I meant it. I do love you."

Too stunned and too sleepy to speak, Sirius watched him leave the room.

_________________________________________

"_Everybody else spent the following morning putting up Christmas decorations. Harry could not remember Sirius ever being in such a good mood; he was actually singing carols, apparently delighted that he was to have company over Christmas._"

(Chapter 23, Christmas On The Closed Ward, HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX.)

__________________________________________

Supper was a joyous, communal affair. Even Harry had stopped sulking. Snow fell outside the window; the kitchen was festooned with paper chains, scented with baking smells and crammed with Weasleys. Sirius felt like he was one of them. He was bursting with joy and he wanted everyone else to be as happy as he was.

He bathed and went to bed as early as he dared that night. On the landing outside the bathroom door, he could hear Bill making excuses to his family about having work the next day as he retired, too.

Once the household was asleep, Bill crept back to Sirius' bed. Sirius had left the bed-side lamp on. He was naked and, after slipping off his dressing gown, so was Bill. For a few minutes they just sat up looking at each other.

"I love you, too," Sirius answered.

Bill snatched Sirius' hands in his own, bringing them up to his mouth. He kissed each finger tip, then turned them over and started on the knuckles.

"Mine," he murmured.

"Yours," Sirius agreed. "All of me."

"Yours, all of me," Bill agreed.

Sirius disentangled his hands, to stroke them over Bill's chest.

"I mean it, I want you to have all of me," Sirius insisted. "I want you everywhere."

Bill grabbed at a buttock cheek. "Everywhere?" he asked, surprised.

Sirius just nodded. Bill chuckled. He took hold of Sirius' skinny hips and flipped him over. He dropped Sirius' face down onto the pillow and held up his buttocks.

"The great Sirius Black would make the shape of an angry cat for me?" He stroked his lover's exposed arse.

"Mmmhmm," Sirius agreed, as best he could with his mouth pressed into the linen.

"No. You don't really want to. More than anything, I want you to be happy," Bill said, lying down next to his man.

Sirius twisted his head round to gaze earnestly into hazel eyes.

"I'm really sure. I really want this. I've been thinking … I've been, erm … practicing …"

Bill's breathing became shallow. He ran his tongue over his lips and croaked out, "Really? Oh, Salazar's shit, I wasn't expecting …"

Sirius leant over awkwardly, his bottom still up in the air, to kiss Bill. It was urgent and passionate, their tongues battling. Bill pulled away from Sirius' mouth and brought his wet mouth to Sirius' butt crack instead. Just in case Bill still doubted his intentions, Sirius summoned over the lube from the drawer where it had remained undisturbed for months.

He gripped at the sheets and bit down on the pillow as his arse experienced unaccustomed warm, wet probing. At the same time, Bill's strong right hand gripped his hardening prick. He could feel the sticky end of Bill's own erection against his thigh.

He needed this - it felt like he had always needed this - to make them fit together, to be as close physically as they were emotionally. Bill was panting, hot breaths hitting his saliva-slicked skin. Sirius felt himself moaning, but his throat was closed shut, his desperate want beyond expression.

Something slim pushed inside his pulsing hole, something which stoked his flaming craving. Still his shaft was stroked, foreskin pulled down and then smoothed back. Hard thighs held snug against the backs of his own.

There was a moment of pressure and then it felt as though it were his heart being filled, emptied, filled - stroked from the inside. Sirius squeezed his eyes tight shut, let himself relax and be moved by Bill's thrusts. The rough cloth rubbed against his face. Sweat trickled down his back, into his neck. Bill groaned with every breath out, in time with every push in.

Sirius was washed with a pleasure that seemed to itch, it was so far beyond what could be endured. It made him want to tear off his own flesh. Colours flashed inside his head. He was outside time, inside forever. And then, impossibly, there was more and his own hot come hit his chest.

Urgent, explosive joy was replaced by deepest contentment. He barely heard the howling behind and above him, but some small remnant of his mind recognised Bill's "Nnnnggghuh" of release.

At dawn, Sirius kissed Bill awake to remind him to return to his own bed.

Sirius couldn't remember ever being happier. He wasn't the only one. The news from St Mungo's was good and Christmas was approaching. For the next week, 12, Grimmauld Place was fun-filled. The only person not sharing his good mood was Remus.

Sirius helped Mundungus to put up the Christmas tree and drape it with fairies, pretending not to notice his former best friend slinking hurriedly past the room; he helped the twins spike the eggnog knowing that Moony had spotted them and looked away; Ginny and Hermione filled the kitchen with flour stamping out gingerbread stars and bells and Lupin actually looked like he was going to join them, until he saw Bill and Sirius mixing up the icing.

"He's your best friend," Bill whispered as the sullen figure retreated again.

"He deserves it," Sirius whispered back, but he put down the box of icing sugar.

While the girls were busy loading the range with baking trays, Bill tried again.

"Time to forgive him?" he suggested.

Sirius shrugged. Then he nodded and started to make his way out of the room. Suddenly Bill was beside him and hissing in his ear, "But if he touches you, I'll break his fingers."

Glowing with euphoria, Sirius searched for his friend. He found him sitting alone, hiding behind a Daily Prophet in the gloomy study.

"Any thing about me in there?" Sirius asked jovially. "Have I committed any more gruesome murders?"

Remus lowered the paper and eyed him suspiciously.

"Not today," he answered slowly.

"I'm barely notorious then! That's no good!" Sirius sat down in a nearby armchair.

Remus stroked his nose protectively. "You're talking to me," he observed.

"Looks like it."

"What are you in such a good mood for?"

"I guess I just feel a warm glow inside me and I want to share it!"

Lupin spent a moment appraising Black, before returning his gaze to the paper and muttering, "I see. You mean Bill's been feeling something warm inside him."

"So, what are we going to get Harry for Christmas?" Sirius persisted.

Remus folded the newspaper.

"I did have an idea actually." He grinned. "But I'm skint as usual."

"I'm a little indisposed when it comes to shopping trips," Sirius offered, with spread hands. "What say we work together? I was thinking we should make it something that helps him with this DADA club of his."

"Exactly! Yes! Yes! I was in that old bookshop on the corner of Knockturn …"

"Dusty, second-hand, papery smelling …"

"Yeah, yeah, the one you always hated."

"It's still going?" Sirius shook his head.

"Brilliant place! Of course it is. And they've got all these Defensive Magic books. Old stuff and advanced stuff that won't be in the school library."

The last Marauders exchanged their well-practiced, glittering look of conspiracy.


	28. 28 A Dog Is for Life, Not Just For Xmas

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

A Dog is for Life, Not Just for Christmas

Bill woke on Christmas morning early, slowly, contented. Everything smelled of all past Christmases. His naked chest felt exposed so, without opening his eyes, he reached out for a blanket. He touched warm hair and looked down.

Sirius was grinning up at him, his head hovering over Bill's lap. A hamper from one of the better department stores, floated beside him. The lid was off and some of contents had been opened. So that explained the smell.

"Happy Christmas," Sirius whispered and held up a jar of Cranberry relish.

Bill tipped his head forward to see better. Naked, Sirius eased Bill's thighs apart and knelt between them. His tongue was held between his sharp, white teeth. He raised his wand and, wordlessly, directed the hamper to bob back a couple of feet. He then tapped the relish jar and swished his wand in the direction of Bill's groin.

He had little idea of what was going to happen, but Bill felt the warmth of blood beginning to harden his cock. His sensitive nerve-endings strummed as he experienced the gelatinous liquid gently paint itself along his length. Sirius moved his wand like a conductor, directing the relish to arc like a monochromic rainbow from the pot to Bill's body. Bill hummed contentedly as the shiny redness spread up and along and over and round, gently caressing.

He anticipated Sirius' mouth. Unexpectedly, though, with a firm flick, Sirius stopped the flowing and painting. He summoned the hamper back, returning the cranberry and picking out a slab of stilton.

Throbbing with arousal now, Bill grunted at the impact of each crumb of cheese as it dropped onto his over-sensitive flesh. Sirius smiled a wicked smile. Slowly, very slowly, he ran his tongue over his lips.

"Yes! Oh, please!" Bill begged.

The blue cheese softened in response to Bill's body temperature. Sirius touched a finger-tip to it and smeared it over the palpating, heated end of Bill's prick.

Bill threw his head back and groaned loudly.

"Is it breakfast time?" Sirius asked.

"Yes!"

"Now?"

"Yes!"

"What shall I have for my Christmas morning breakfast, then?"

"Shit, Sirius, don't!"

"Don't? You don't want me to have stilton and cranberry for my …"

"Yes! Yes, I mean … I don't know - just do it!" Bill was blind with his need now, digging his fingernails into the sheets, his back stretched into a curve.

"OK," Sirius whispered, the words puffing onto the soft skin of Bill's inner thigh.

There was the lightest pressure near the base of Bill's engorged shaft. Then tiny, teasing tickling, tongue-tip touches. Finally, one, long, flat-tongued stroke ran from the bottom to the top, making Bill's throat raw with exclamation. He looked down and watched Sirius sucking in his Yule-flavoured treat, little bit by little bit until he was eaten all up.

At last, Sirius' hands made contact, gently, with Bill's balls. Bill felt the hot, tugging fizzing that signalled he was nearly done for.

"I can't hold … I'm gonna …."

Suddenly, cold air hit his wet dick as Sirius pulled away. The breath left him as he was roughly tipped over onto his stomach. He tried to rock his hips, to grind his abandoned erection into the bed, but he was held still.

Bill twisted his head, saw Sirius flicking his wand, calling over the hamper again. He couldn't work out what was going on, but then he couldn't think very much at all. Sirius pulled out a small, white, ceramic crock pot with a muslin cover. It was wafted under his nose, smelled of alcohol. Sirius threw his wand away. With one hand he kept a determined hold on Bill's pelvis, while he dug the other into the pot. He scooped up a handful of soft, golden yellow …

_Brandy butter. I'm a pudding? Ah, no! Special Christmas edition of Last Tango In Paris …_Bill's fevered brain finally supplied. Sure enough, his arse crack was swiftly filled with the grease which was then pushed urgently into him. He managed to shove back and up, against the direction of the ramming hand.

"Time for something sweet!" Sirius growled out behind him somewhere and entered without resistance.

The air was full of seasonal smells: cranberry, stilton, brandy, arse and cock. Sirius pounded into Bill's pliant body which soon added the sharp scent of spunk.

Sirius didn't last much longer before he, too, came loudly and then collapsed, exhausted, onto Bill's back.

"Mmm. Merry Christmas, sweetheart," Bill muttered, adding, "Thanks."

As comfortable as it was to lie there, pressing cooling, naked skin together, the daylight beyond the curtains started to worry Bill.

"Your present now," he said, reluctantly pushing his drowsy lover off him.

Bill reached under the bed and pulled out his wand and a small, wrapped box. He placed it on his palm and Sirius sat up with interest. Sirius went to take the little box, but Bill stopped him. He tapped it with his wand and the box grew. He dropped it onto the food-soiled bed as it expanded until it was the size of the hamper.

"OK. Go!" Bill ordered, grinning, and Sirius tore off the paper.

"What is it?" Sirius asked, gawping at the black cube with glass on the front.

Bill laughed, then answered, "It's a television! You said you wanted one …"

Sirius gave Bill a big kiss.

"It's brilliant!" Sirius answered. "I get so bored!"

"The programs are all Muggle and most of it's crap …" Bill waved his hands apologetically. "But your Mum'll hate it and that's what really matters."

After a lingering snog, they carefully separated their sticky pubic hair and then performed some cleaning charms on each other's bodies. Bill put on his dressing gown and slipped from the room with a last, fond, backwards glance.

He heard the stereo gasp as he turned towards the stairs. Two figures stood frozen on the landing. The light was low, but he recognised the identical heads of tousled red hair.

"Aye, aye? What's going on here?" Fred asked in a whisper.

"Sneaking out of Sirius' bedroom?" George asked in a whisper.

"Been in there all night?" Fred surmised.

Bill's mind was a blank. What was the perfectly reasonable explanation for this? He felt his mouth opening and closing uselessly. He'd been caught out. There was nothing left for it but damage limitation. No point discussing it there on the landing and risking waking anyone else. He grabbed a pyjama collar in each fist and dragged the twins back into Sirius' room.

The teenagers' faces shone with surprise and delight as they surveyed the mess. Bill had forgotten about that. A tense-looking Sirius had got a sheet pulled over the lower half of his bare body, and the hamper was flying away from the bed, with the jars once again inside it, but there were smears of cheese, relish and greasy butter spots all over the linen. As well as the other stains.

"Well, that's just greedy!" Fred pronounced.

"Naughty big brother!" George added.

The twins investigated, each prowling round a different side of the bed.

Fred straightened up and looked Bill in the eye, "Fleur not enough for you?" he asked, cheekily.

Bill's heart was thudding. His throat was dry. He didn't know what his answer was, found himself walking towards Fred, trying to cook up a reply.

"Very greedy!" George's amused voice came from the other side of the bed.

"He should share," Fred agreed with a sly grin.

Bill felt defensive, scared and irritated, but when Fred added, "My turn with Fleur when she's back in the country then?" the fury rose from his gut.

"Don't you dare --" he started.

George interrupted him from the other side of the room, "Good children share with their little brothers."

Bill looked over and realised that George was sitting on the edge of the bed, eyeing up Sirius' exposed body and Sirius didn't seem to mind nearly enough. After a quick, assessing glance towards Bill, George leaned over and planted a hasty kiss on Sirius' lips.

Roaring with anger, Bill charged across the room.

"You little bastard!"

George leaped away nimbly, but ended up backed into the corner and Bill in front of him.

"Bill! Careful!" Sirius warned, but there was a trace of infuriating humour in his voice.

Bill turned on him. "You fucking hypocrite!" he spat. "He's younger than Fleur."

Sirius raised open hands and spluttered, "I didn't do anything!"

There was a tense pause, Bill pushing George against the wall by his two shoulders and looking from Fred to Sirius to George, trying to make sense of his feelings, trying to calm himself down.

"I don't think that's the way to ask them a favour," Sirius suggested quietly. "Weren't you wanting them to keep quiet?"

Bill relaxed his grip and backed away from George, who smirked at him.

"Not fair." Fred pouted. "Do I get to kiss Fleur then?"

Bill raised a warning finger. He said, "Don't even …" but could get no further.

The twins exchanged cheeky glances.

"What are you two doing sneaking round at the top of the house at this time of the morning anyway?" Sirius asked.

_Yes, good point! _Bill tried to focus. His emotions were fluctuating and spinning, paralysing him.

George warily edged round his older brother, heading towards the door.

"Hippogryph milk," he muttered.

"Just a sample," Fred added, inching towards his twin.

Sirius laughed his reassuring, barking laugh. "Buckbeak's a boy!"

The twins swore. Then Fred nudged George.

"The blood has properties, though, right?" George asked Sirius.

Sirius sighed. "You want some of Buckbeak's blood for one of your secret experiments?"

The twins nodded, unnervingly, in unison. They had always done that. All their lives. Bill had never got used to it.

"Is that the price of your silence?" asked the dark, intense man sitting up clearly naked in the bed Bill had clearly just left.

"Well …" George started softly, staring hungrily at the dark, curling hair and sculpted, pale skin of Sirius' chest again.

Fred spoke over him with authority, "A couple of pints would do it. It's bloody difficult to get hold of. And we'll take all knowledge of this liaison to the grave."

Bill caught Sirius' eyes flicking over to George just once.

"I'll leave it in your room," Sirius promised Fred. Then he looked over to Bill, adding, "Even Buckbeak's suffering for your secret now."


	29. Chapter 29 Canine Teeth

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Canine Teeth

"_Harry did not mention his vague suspicions to Sirius, whose cheerfulness was evaporating fast now that Christmas was over. As the date of their departure back to Hogwarts drew nearer, he became more and more prone to what Mrs Weasley called 'fits of the sullens', in which he would become taciturn and grumpy, often withdrawing to Buckbeak's room for hours at a time. His gloom seeped through the house, oozing under doorways like some noxious gas, so that all of them became infected by it."_

(Chapter 24, Occlumency, HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX.)

_______________________________________________________

Of all the physical sensations he had enjoyed on Christmas morning, the one that stayed with Sirius was the kiss from George. It had been fresh and unexpected. It had made him realise how tainted the pleasure was that he got from his contact with Bill. Every touch was full of love and want, but also hurt and hunger. Always secret. George had behaved spontaneously, without shame, in front of two of his brothers. Nobody had ever seen Bill kiss Sirius.

Of all the conversations he had had recently, one phrase rang through him: Fred saying, "My turn with Fleur when she's back in the country then?"

She was out of the country. Fleur was away. Time to bring on the substitute. Just a week or two settling for second best. The wife was spending Christmas in France with her parents. So the Boy could have a turn, they could pretend it was a relationship. Bill could talk about love, and maybe he had felt it when he said it. But when the girlfriend returned he could forget it again. Sirius would go back to being the dirty little secret, the bit on the side. Or maybe not even that.

He wasn't mentally strong. It might be easier to break away, to do without Bill altogether, than to go back to those painful days of waiting, those hours of loving someone who he knew was with someone else.

Did that kiss mean he had options? He didn't have to put up with waiting for the scraps to fall from Fleur's table? Somebody could love Sirius full-time? Not George, obviously, though it had been nice to be liked by someone so youthful and good-looking. No, George was a schoolboy. And he looked too much like his big brother. And not Remus, that was too complicated. But maybe someone?

He didn't want anyone else. He wanted Bill, all of Bill, but all or nothing.

Sirius threw another rat at Buckbeak and stomped downstairs. It was two days - two nights of frantic fumbling - since Christmas. Soon Arthur would be out of hospital, the youngsters would be back at school and Fleur would be back at work. Then Sirius would be alone again.

Bill was hovering at the door to his own bedroom. He looked anxious. He looked around to make sure nobody could see, then jerked his head for Sirius to come into the room. What did he think Sirius was? A dog? Sirius kept walking, down staring at his moving feet.

Bill grabbed his arm and pulled him in, shutting the door behind them.

"You hurt my arm," Sirius accused.

Bill hadn't really, but he could have done. And he constantly hurt Sirius in ways the older man was not about to demean himself by listing.

"Sorry," Bill muttered. "What's up Siz? Talk to me."

Sirius looked over Bill's shoulder, into the room.

"That bed looks like it hasn't been slept in."

"Well, it hasn't."

"You don't want anyone getting suspicious."

Bill pouted and cocked his head on one side. "So come and help me rumple it."

Sirius shook his head. He was too washed with the blackness to play flirtatious games.

"Maybe you should sleep in it tonight," he suggested dully.

Bill looked devastated. "Why?" he asked.

Sirius just opened the door and walked out of the room. Bill should just get it. He should know. If he really loved him. Which he clearly didn't.

Bill wasn't at supper. Molly said he was sitting with Arthur. George was there, though, so was Remus. But what did they matter? What did anyone matter?

Sirius sulked up to his room afterwards and put in his ear-phones. Bob Geldof could distract him. He knew how to be angry. Pulp was crap, it was Bill's music. Modern music had turned Sirius soft. He wanted the rebellion of the Boomtown Rats.

He played 'Looking After No.1' over and over, letting the anger release the pain, from the thumping drums at the opening to the echoing defiantly shouted, "I'm gonna be like me!" and that last drum stamp at the end. "I am an island! Entire of myself!" he tried to convince himself. "And I owe nobody nothing!" "I'll step on your face, on my mother's grave." "I'm nobody's fool." "I don't want to live like you!"

But he always got caught out when Bob sang: "I always get what I want and I want to get you."

Eventually he let the CD finish itself off and lay still, hoping for sleep. He could feel Bill's presence on the storey below. Waves of 'Bill' floated through the floorboards. It was like electricity or magic and it was giving him a headache. Sirius' bed felt huge and cold. He twitched with the knowledge of how Bill's body warmth would feel, pressed against his own side. Just sleeping. He couldn't work out how to breath without Bill's pattern to copy.

He felt defeated and pitiful, like a junky waiting for a fix. Once Sirius Black had been a proud and strong man, but he had to accept his reduced status. He would make do with what he could get and hate himself for it. He pulled on a dressing gown and crept down one flight of stairs. Bill's door was unlocked. Sirius crossed the floor on bare feet, in darkness.

"Sirius!" Bill croaked.

Sirius followed the sound. "This just means I'm pathetic. That's all this means," he said.

"I love you," Bill whispered. His voice sounded strangely thick.

Sirius snorted cynically. He sat on the edge of the bed and put his hand down. It landed on the pillow. It was wet.

Sirius gave a low chuckle. "That's either localised bedwetting or you just cried me a river."

Bill sniffed. Sirius cast _Lumos_ and examined Bill's face. It was blotchy and swollen. It was still wet in places. He really had been crying. But did it mean anything?

"I don't know what's wrong, Siz." Bill's voice quavered. He sniffed again. "Tell me what's wrong. Is it something I can fix?"

"Are you really that thick?" Sirius still felt harsh.

"Obviously. Yes."

"She's in France, isn't she? You didn't even bother to tell me."

"Sorry," but Bill still looked confused.

"That's why you've had so much time for me. She'll come back, I'll be relegated …"

"No, no, no. I love you Siz. I don't love her like I love you …"

"Words are easy, Bill. Tears are cheap. Meanwhile, I wait for you in the dark. I'm still sitting on that towel and you're still saying, 'Don't tell anyone, will you?'. I've lost too much living already."

"What do you want me to do?" Bill asked.

Sirius shook his head. "I've told you. I just told you," he snarled. "You won't do it and I'm not going to beg."

Then Sirius ended the _Lumos_ spell and cast a drying charm on the pillow. He lay down in Bill's single bed with him.

"Hold me," he ordered.

Bill wrapped his arms round his lover and squeezed so hard that Sirius thought he might break. Not that he would have minded that.

He turned his mouth until it was against Bill's earlobe.

"Of course you want everything," he hissed. "I know what it's like to have everything. Why would you change that?"

"I just want you," Bill breathed back. But Sirius knew better than to believe him.

They slept wrapped round each other and, right up until dawn, when Sirius slipped back to his own bed, they ignored their hard-ons and just cuddled.


	30. Chapter 30 On a long Leash

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

Warning: A little bit of heterosexuality.

On a Long Leash

The English made horrible coffee. They spooned powder out of a glass jar into a mug and poured boiling water onto it. Then they added milk straight from the fridge, and sometimes white sugar. It was an abomination. Fleur Delacour trusted nobody to make coffee for her.

She had brought back a little sack of beans from France. They had been roasted in her mother's oven and she now ground them in a little device she had bought in Paris' equivalent of Diagon Alley - La Place Mascrine. She had also brought back pastries which she arranged on a plate. English cakes were stodgy and their biscuits dry. Also, they did not know how to dress or create scents, the music was too loud and there was Dark Magic lurking in unexpected places.

However, England had its compensations. One was being far enough from her parents to do pretty much what she wanted. The other was currently knocking on the door of her little Henley flat. She glanced once at the table (laid out beautifully) and once in the mirror (good enough) before answering the door.

He was delicious: tall and strong, with beautiful hazel eyes and that long, glossy red hair. He was delightfully shy and awkward, too. And such a gentleman!

He nodded. "Um, Fleur, it's - uh - good to see … How was your New Year?"

She stretched onto tiptoes to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

"Come in, come in!"

"That's 'on-tray' right? I've been practicing," he said as they moved into the sitting room.

She giggled, "Very good. 'Entrée'. But your accent ees terrible!"

She indicated the decoratively carved armchairs and they sat before the little coffee table. It was covered with a lacy white cloth and set with delicate china.

"Wow, this looks, yeah …" Bill stuttered.

"Sank you," Fleur purred, as she poured the coffee out. "My New Year was quiet, I sat in wiz ze family. Gabrielle she was so funny! She was determined to be awake at midnight, we could see 'er struggle for at least an hour!"

"Did she make it?"

"Bien sûr! She ees a Delacour. We are not quitters!" Fleur eyed her man carefully, before adding the milk she had heated for him to his coffee cup. She drank hers black.

Bill looked down at the floor. He held himself even more stiffly than usual. Something was wrong, but she would wait for him to tell her what it was. She had never met a man like Bill before. Her Veela blood was more curse than blessing. Women were jealous and men overcome by their desire. But Bill was her friend. Probably her only real friend, outside her immediate family, since puberty.

Bill took a sip of his coffee and tried to keep his face straight.

"More milk?" she asked.

"Thanks." He watched her as she poured, but when she looked into his face, he looked down at the floor again. Eventually he took a deep breath and said, "I have to talk to you."

"Mmhmm?" She kept her voice even.

"I've been … over Christmas … I mean - oh Salazar!" He swallowed, she waited, he began again: "I'm seeing someone else. There's somebody … No, wait - I'm gay, I should have told you that a long time ago."

It was hardly a surprise. When she had been telling her parents about Bill over Christmas, her father had muttered darkly that "only one sort of man can resist a Veela". She had wondered whether Bill would ever admit it. The English were so reticent about sex! Her father clearly thought it a problem, but she found it ideal. Her mother had always told her that the most important thing in a marriage was for the spouses to be friends.

"And you 'ave found -- in French we say 'garcon d'amour', a Boy of Love?" she asked.

Bill was staring at her now, faintly incredulously, but he replied, "French is so much more romantic than English. Our term is 'Kept Boy'. But it's not exactly like that …"

"You are the heir of a Pureblood family. It is normal. I am so glad zat it ees not a woman. I would have felt zat I was some'ow lacking some thing eef you 'ad taken a woman. Zis is perfect!"

Bill sat back in his chair, finally relaxed. "Perfect?" he asked.

"You are a kind, brave, honest man. You will be a good father and already you are my good friend. We should marry and have children, as we have talked before. When the children are grown I will take lovers. It is perfect."

"Well, when you put it like that … I can't think of anyone I would rather have as the mother of my children."

"Ees he of Pureblood? 'E understands ze rules?" she asked.

"Er, yes. He is. As it happens. My family never really went in for all that Old Family stuff, though, I don't know that I know the rules."

"My parents also neglected the old ways. We will not. You are the Heir. You do as you please only. It is for me and him to know the system. We will be married and have babies and 'e will be somewhere else and sometimes you are wiz 'im and sometimes wiz us! Can you afford two homes?"

"He's got his own place. It's not really that sort of … he's older than I am."

Fleur waved a hand dismissively. "I do not need to know. If I meet him, I will be polite. But it is not necessary. As long as 'e makes you 'appy."

"He does. Very happy. Thank you. You make me very happy, too. I thought I was going to have to choose. So, how open can we be, is it still a secret?"

"Pas du tous! No, be as open as you like. I will not be ashamed. I am proud to have a handsome, strong fiancé who knows 'ow to behave like a Pureblood Heir! You English are usually so embarrassed about amour. It will be a refreshment."

"I can't tell you too much about him. It's complicated."

Fleur shrugged. "It makes nothing! I know he has good taste!"

"Thanks. He has the same taste in coffee as well actually."

"More milk?" Unbelievable!

"Yes please," he said, sheepishly. "You are fantastic. I'm so lucky. You're beautiful and clever and so kind. You were amazing in the Triwizard --"

"Not zis again!"

"No, but you're just as good at the bank. And all the household things …" Bill indicated the table and the flat.

"You want a tart?" Fleur asked.

Bill grinned, but did not to explain her inadvertent double-entendre.

"Not just now. I don't know how to tell you how much this means to me."

Fleur sashayed round the low table and put her hands on his shoulders. She looked into his eyes and replied, "Maybe we can find some way for you to zank me." Then she dropped her lips onto his.

He pulled her down onto his lap and wrapped his arms round her, kissing her back passionately.

After a long embrace, she asked, "Weel you like to stay 'ere tonight?"

Bill nodded. Then seemed to remember something. In a hoarse voice, he said, "I just have to send a couple of messages."

He pulled his wand out of his sleeve and cast two patronuses. The liquid silver cheetahs darted quickly out of the end of his wand, before both sharply changing direction and darting just as quickly to the opposite sides of the room.

He pointed his wand at one: "Mum, it's me. Don't expect me back tonight. Everything's fine, explain later. Love to Dad if you're visiting him."

The cheetah dashed speedily out of sight. Then Bill took a deep breath and looked at Fleur's face, where her head rested on his shoulder, before pointing at the other patronus and saying, "Siz, I'll see you tomorrow. Everything's brilliant, it's all worked out."

He didn't even watch the second messenger depart before taking his fiancé's face in his hands and bringing their mouths together.


	31. Chapter 31 Golden Retriever

HARRY POTTER AND HIS MAGICAL UNIVERSE WERE CREATED BY JK ROWLING NOT BY ME. WARNER BRO.S, BLOOMSBURY, SCHOLASTIC ETC. HAVE RIGHTS TO IT ALL AND I DON'T.

Golden Retriever

Bill was used to waking at dawn with another body beside him. This morning, though, he didn't have to sneak back to his own bed; he could stay where he was for a few more hours. They could go into work together. It could be nice. Only this morning, it wasn't the right body.

He propped himself up on one elbow and gazed down at Fleur's sleeping form. She was as fair as Sirius was dark, as small as he was tall, as soft and curved as he was roughened and bony. Bill loved Fleur, she was one of the nicest people he knew. She wasn't moody or sullen, didn't demand his time or expect him to be able to read her mind, she had an even temper and impeccable manners towards every creature she encountered. She was kind, understanding, forgiving, beautiful, funny, clever, brave …

But when he woke up beside Sirius he always had a hard-on. He didn't care how difficult Sirius was to please, Bill was determined to make him happy. After only one night away from him, he missed the other man with a constant ache. He looked down at sweet Fleur, his best friend, at her blonde hair straggling round her head, her pouting mouth, her thick cotton pyjamas, and wished he could love her like a fiancé should.

They had kissed for a while, but had not gone any further. She was an old-fashioned girl who intended to be a virgin on her wedding night and he wasn't about to fight her for her honour. Sirius had asked him once how he knew whether he would be able to do it with a woman. He didn't know. He had grave doubts. He still wasn't quite sure what he was meant to be doing with her breasts - not that she complained about his occasional attempts - but when the pyjama bottoms came off, he wouldn't have a clue what he was looking at. Perhaps he should call Fred in, he thought, wryly, take him up on his offer to 'have a turn' with her. He might know what he was doing.

After work that day, he went to St Mungo's to visit his father. Arthur was sitting up on the bed, fully dressed and with no signs of bandages or blood.

"You look fantastic, Dad!"

"Yes. I think your mother may have to eat her words. It would appear that the Healers here may just know a thing or two!" He swung his legs rhythmically like an excited child.

"I'll tell her you said that!" Bill threatened.

"Oh, no. Please don't. I just have to be examined by one more Healer and, if she passes me fit, then I can go home today."

"Home?" Bill felt icy. He should have been ecstatic. He started again, "How cool is that? All better! Well done. The kids go back to school tomorrow, though, no point going back to The Burrow for one night."

"Oh, no. I meant Grim … erm …" Arthur trailed off, eying his fellow patients warily.

Bill nodded. He should have been more discrete. It was the Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, it was top secret. This was a public place.

"I was going to Owl your mother …"

"Well, I'm here now. I'll take you back. It can be a surprise. I can't wait to see the looks on everyone's faces." He could picture them all, the whole family (except for Percy who didn't count any more after sending back his Christmas jumper) crowding round the front door as he returned their father to them, safe and sound.

"Pass us some of those grapes, will you?" Arthur asked happily. "Don't know why it's always grapes. Traditional for some reason when a person is in hospital. I wonder what Muggles do …"

Bill let his father ramble on for a while, relieved to see him in such good spirits. When there was a break in the monologue, though, he cleared his throat. He had decided that this would be the easiest place to start.

"Dad, I need to tell you something. You up to a shock?"

Arthur looked concerned, but answered, "Never been fitter!"

"I've fallen in love with someone."

Arthur relaxed. "I think I can guess what's coming!"

"I don't think you can," Bill muttered.

"You've asked the French girl to marry you?"

"Oh, yeah. That. Well, sort of, but that's not what I was going to say." Bill looked at his father, then down to the floor. "I'm in love with someone else. Actually it's …" He forced his gaze back to Arthur's, he had to judge his immediate reaction. Somehow his throat had just filled itself. He swallowed. "It's a man," he said.

To his surprise, Arthur looked quietly triumphant. "I always told Molly …" He collected himself, "Sorry, go on."

"You're not surprised?"

"Just goes to show that I know my children at least as well as she does. Is it anyone I know?"

Bill nodded. This was too easy. So far.

"Am I playing twenty questions or are you going to tell me?" Arthur asked, but then quickly added, as though he had just remembered, "You shouldn't have asked that girl to marry you!"

"Fleur. Her name's Fleur," Bill was irrationally annoyed that his father couldn't remember her name. "It's fine. She knows, she's cool with it all. You know, Pureblood Heir set-up."

Arthur's brow creased. "You know we don't approve of the old ways. You might as well go Muggle-baiting --" he began grimly.

Bill spoke over him, raising his voice involuntarily, "Well she does and so do I and that's what matters."

They both became aware at the same time that the other occupants of the room were looking over at them.

Arthur asked quietly, "And does he? Whoever he is? Is he happy with this arrangement?"

Bill looked around. It was essential that no-one overheard what he was about to say. Lives depended on it. He moved his face close to his father's ear and whispered, "It's Sirius."

Arthur didn't answer right away and Bill was too close to see his expression. By the time he had pulled back to look, though, his father was smiling.

"Good chap that," he said, nodding. "I know your mother doesn't always approve, but a good chap."

"How do you think she'll react?"

"Told me first, eh?" Arthur asked smugly. "I think she'll shout a lot. She always does. Then she'll calm down. After all, she's always said that what he needs is the love of a good woman. You'll do just as well, I'm sure."

When they got back to Grimmauld Place less than an hour later, the scene of welcoming Weasleys was just as Bill had pictured it. What was unexpected was the sight that met them all when they walked into the kitchen:

_Both Sirius and Snape looking towards the door with their wands pointing in each other's faces and Harry immobile between them, a hand stretched out to each, trying to force them apart._ (Chapter 24, Occlumency, HARRY POTTER AND THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX.)

The two men lowered their wands. Bill looked at Sirius' face, at the fury there, and he felt his own ire rise. Snape swished out. His shoulder knocked Bill's arm, but he didn't look back, let alone apologise. As the rest of the company settled Arthur, and Harry and Sirius welcomed him, Bill backed quietly out of the door and followed Snape up the basement steps.

The sallow crow of a man was just about to open the front door. Bill crossed the hallway in a couple of bounds and put out an arm to stop him.

The Slytherin's lip curled disdainfully. "Mr Weasley," he hissed dangerously, "control yourself. You should get back downstairs and stroke your dog friend. Going without is obviously shortening his temper."

"Watch yourself, Snape. You just be careful with Sirius." Bill brought his face down to stare into the shorter man's black eyes.

Snape looked away, as though nervous of what he might inadvertently read in Bill's mind. His sneer was undisguised, though, as he threatened, "You should be nicer to me, remember, you don't want me spilling your dirty little secret, do you?"

"Actually," Bill replied, surprising even himself with how calm his voice could sound, "I don't think it is dirty. Nor is it a secret any more. And you're behind the times, because Sirius is 'getting it' as you so maturely put it. He's getting laid every night. When did you last have anybody in your bed?"

"How dare you?" The long, black robes quivered with anger. Snape tried to push Bill away, but he wasn't strong enough.

"You're going to have to find someone else to bully into supporting your little power plays," Bill insisted, with a raised eyebrow, "Because you've got no hold over us any more. Oh, and one more thing: Sirius may be stuck in here but I'm not. And his fights are my fights now. So you be careful or I'll be bringing you to account. Got it?"

Bill backed off and Severus Snape slipped quickly through the front door. Bill took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall. He didn't even know what the row in the kitchen had been about. He just knew that he was on Sirius' side.

He stood in the doorway of the kitchen for a long time, trying to attract Sirius' attention. George spotted him at one point and, later, Arthur did. He had to move before someone who didn't know anything worked out what he was doing. He didn't have the strength yet to declare himself to the full, noisy room.

He marched the length of the basement, instead, past everyone, heading into the cool pantry. He leaned against the shelves - which had been filled for Christmas, but were now nearly empty - and waited, hoping hard that his lover had got the hint. The lively voices of his family seeped in from the kitchen. Finally, the tall, dark figure filled the doorway.

Bill smiled and opened his arms, but Sirius stayed where he was. His voice was harsh as he asked quietly, "What's brilliant? What's all worked out?"

So, he'd got the Patronus, then. "Siz, I missed you. Come here?" Bill knew how pathetic he sounded. But that just was how weak he was when it came to this man. He needed him.

Sirius didn't move.

So Bill took a couple of steps forward and told him anyway, "I talked to Fleur. About you. And it's all cool. She's been brilliant about everything."

"You were with her last night?" Sirius asked, clearly through gritted teeth.

"Oh." Bill reassured him, "Nothing happened. We didn't, she doesn't." Sirius failed to look suitably pleased. "She's still a virgin."

"How perfectly brilliant!" Sirius' words dripped irony.

Sudden laughter from the kitchen rippled over them.

"It's all OK," Bill insisted, trying to convey his joy, to transmit it across the few feet of stone floor, to infect the lean man still snarling at him. "She's Pureblood, you know, old-fashioned. She doesn't mind. We don't have to keep secrets any more. I've told my Dad. I'm going to tell everybody. How much I love you."

Sirius ran his hand through his hair. After an exasperated sigh, he crossed the space between them and grabbed Bill's arms. He sank his face into Bill's neck.

"Godric's sake, Bill!" he muttered, lightly shaking his head.

Bill watched the sway of the long, black locks. "Are you happy? I thought you'd be happy. I'm happy." Bill wrapped his arms round the slim back.

"Of course I'm not happy, you idiot," Sirius grunted, still not meeting Bill's gaze. "But I'll settle. It's better than it was. If it's the best I'm going to get then I'll settle for this."

Bill had had enough of talking. He could feel the twist of muscle in his grip. The body pressed against him was everything Fleur's wasn't, was everything that every part of him had been craving since the last time he had held it. They could talk later. Sirius was being moody again, that was all. Bill knew how to make him happy.

With his wand, Bill closed and locked the door, damping down the sounds of his family on the other side of the whitewashed wall. Their voices drifted quietly into the cool, narrow space, mixed together into meaninglessness, the way spilled paint colours merge into brown. Bill turned them both to push Sirius against the wall, the narrow strip of wall where the door had been, the only unshelved space. Plaster pattered onto Sirius' shoulders.

"Look, Bill I …"

Bill closed Sirius' mouth with his own. He pressed his lips down, hard and urgent, gripping the back of his lover's head, holding the firm body still against the wall with his own. When he broke for air, Sirius swore and Bill quickly whispered, "I love you," before renewing the kiss, deeper than before, slower, softer.

He could feel the erection pushing into his hip, knew his partner wanted this as much as he did. There was the echo of the clatter of a falling pot from the next room as he unbuttoned Sirius' jeans. He took hold of the engorged shaft and pulled his hand up and down, at the same time sinking his teeth into the white flesh over Sirius' collarbone. Sirius grunted and swore again. His chest rose and fell jaggedly beneath Bill's flexing upper arm.

Bill shoved his torso against the wiry form that fulfilled him, he tasted the rough skin and salty sweat, felt Sirius' excitement in his sticky palm and heard it in his shallow panting. The smell of sex was joined by the smell of onions frying.

His mouth dry and mind empty, Bill struggled Sirius round until his forehead was against the ancient wall, pulling his hips back, forcing his jeans down. The soft scrape of the hair on Sirius' arse against his wrist made Bill moan. This was what he needed. Now he knew what he was doing!

He grabbed blindly at the shelf beside him. Sirius stilled his hand, calmly handed him the olive oil bottle.

"Careful. Quiet." Sirius growled.

Bill breathed in the silky black hair at Sirius' neck. He wrapped his arm tight round Sirius' chest, grasping at the old satin of his shirt. He tipped the open bottle over his hand and then pushed his trembling fingers into the tight warmth of his favourite hole.

A familiar Christmas tune in several inexpert voices drifted towards them, but Bill didn't notice. Nor did he notice the smell and sound of chicken browning with onions. He wasn't even aware of Sirius' groans any more as he released his erection from his pants and thrust it into Sirius. He fumbled until he had hold of Sirius' cock and stroked it in time with his hip movements.

"I love you," he gasped again, before climaxing hard and dropping onto his knees on the stone floor.

___________________________________

Author's note: thanks to Julie, remuslives23 for the smut position idea - she is Mrs Smutgasm!

Thanks for all the reviews and alerts and favourites.


	32. Chapter 32 Good Boy

HARRY POTTER AND HIS MAGICAL UNIVERSE WERE CREATED BY JK ROWLING NOT BY ME. WARNER BRO.S, BLOOMSBURY, SCHOLASTIC ETC. HAVE RIGHTS TO IT ALL AND I DON'T.

Good Boy

Up against a wall like a prostitute in an alleyway. How appropriate.

Sirius yanked up his jeans. Stepping over Bill's prone body, he made it out of the pantry and, pasting a false smile onto his face, through the kitchen. He hated his body for wanting Bill's. He was angry with Bill, but instead of listening, Bill had shoved him to the wall and fucked him. And he had loved every minute. But as soon as it was over he had hated them both.

He stomped up to Buckbeak's room and sat in the corner on the stinking straw, despising himself. If only he had the strength to tell Bill to get lost. He'd never been any good at taking turns. Well, he wasn't going to share nicely like a good Boy. He wouldn't be going round to the wife's house for tea and crumpets (or the French equivalent. Éclairs? Cheese?) like the over-painted, large-breasted women his mother had vetted for his father. He ripped off a rat's head before throwing it to the Hippogryph. He would break as many Rules as he could. Then maybe Bill would end their relationship. Sirius couldn't.

Harry came up to fetch him for supper and he did his best to look cheerful for the lad's sake. The youngsters would be going back to school tomorrow. He didn't want Smellerus Snark to fiddle about with his godson's thought processes. What was Dumbledore thinking?

There was a flurry of activity after supper: packing trunks, finishing off homework and polishing boots. All were reminders that soon Sirius would be alone again. He tried to have a last relaxed game of Exploding Snap with Harry and Ron, but found he had nothing to say to them. Molly cut the game short when she sent the younger ones up to bed, because they 'had a big day tomorrow.'

Sirius had been about to wander upstairs himself when the twins dragged their father into the sitting room to show him the packets of baby wet wipes they had collected for him. Arthur was fascinated and Sirius found himself drawn to their little group. The boys made a show out of peeling back the packaging and revealing that the handkerchiefs were (dun dun dun) moist! And what's more they were (gasp!) disposable!

Arthur was just asking what Muggles used them for, when Molly came into the room. Fred and George eyed her warily, as though expecting to be sent to bed, but she just gazed fondly at her men folk.

"Er, Mum …" Bill stood in the doorway.

She turned and smiled at him.

"I have to tell you something."

All the saliva in Sirius' mouth dried up. The three Weasley men simultaneously turned to gauge his reaction. His escape route was blocked by Bill and Molly. He ducked down low on the armchair he was occupying. Arthur and George turned to watch the conversation on the other side of the room, but Fred continued to eye him with a glint of sadistic amusement.

How would Molly react? Sirius heard his blood rocketing round his body. Bill lead his mother over to the sofa. When they were sitting, she patted his hand encouragingly.

Bill started stammering and making a complete mess of coherence. Sirius tried to despise him, tried hard not to feel sympathetic. He failed.

Eventually Bill managed to cough out, "I'm in love with a man."

Molly reared back. "You're what?" she snapped.

"Molly, dear …" Arthur moved gently towards the sofa. Unfortunately, this drew her attention to the side of the room where Sirius and the twins were sitting. She gave them all an assessing glare.

"I see I'm the last to know!" she huffed.

"No, Molly …" Arthur soothed.

"Don't lie! I can see that none of you are surprised!" She looked at each of them in turn. Sirius tried to shrink into the upholstery. She turned back to Bill. "You're not gay!" she accused.

"Yes, I am," he answered meekly.

"Since when?"

"Since forever."

"You didn't bother to tell us?" Her voice was getting louder. "When's forever? What does that mean?"

Sirius spotted the twins exchanging a look.

"Since Hogwarts, I suppose."

Fred held up three fingers, George one. They both nodded then turned their attention to the clock.

"They let you carry on with other boys at school?" Molly was red-faced. "I'm going to have a word with Albus! Someone should have stopped you! Were you abused by an older boy?"

"No! Merlin! No, Mum!" Bill looked to his father for support, but there was little chance of anyone getting a word in edge-ways. Fred gave Sirius a very nasty look. Then he turned back to the clock.

_He's ten years younger than me,_ Sirius thought, _and she doesn't like me anyway. What's she going to accuse me of?_ He tried to regulate his breathing, tried to convince himself, _he's a grown up. He's old enough to make his own decisions._ But would she see it like that?

She had changed tack. "You were Head Boy! What sort of an example was that to set the younger students? Come to that, how's it going to look to your younger brothers? And poor innocent little Ginny?"

George chewed at his lower lip.

"What about that poor girl at the bank?"

George looked back up to the clock, sighed and handed Fred a coin.

"Ah!" Arthur interrupted. "That is the real issue, Molly dear." He sat on the arm of the settee and patted her shoulder, while giving Bill a meaningful look.

"Not really," Bill muttered petulantly, kicking at the carpet.

"He's going to marry her anyway," Arthur said.

Sirius was pleased to see that Molly looked horrified.

"Fleur knows, she's fine with it." Bill gave a cavalier shrug.

Arthur muttered darkly, "Old-fashioned Pureblood apparently."

Fred and George raised their eyebrows in a disconcertingly identical manner. There was a brief pause before Molly hit the roof. She was so incandescent with fury that it was impossible to make out any individual words.

_Oh, everything's worked out brilliantly, has it Bill? _Sirius allowed himself a smug smile. Then he noticed that George was giving him a questioning look. Sirius curled a lip and shrugged a shoulder. Molly had quieted slightly and it was possible to make out phrases like "abhorrent way of life" and "exactly what we're fighting against!"

Bill started to shout back then. "None of your business! If the three of us are happy with the arrangement, then everyone else can just butt out!"

That was probably Sirius' cue to speak up. But he didn't fancy being in the middle of a huge Weasley row. Bill and his mother were screaming spittle into each other's faces.

"What we're fighting is You-Know-Who murdering people, how I arrange my private life is --"

"Precisely the sort of Pureblood hypocrisy and tradition the Death Eaters want to impose on --"

"Bollocks is it! I'm the Heir, I can do what I bloody like!"

Arthur rose to his feet and fixed Bill with a glare. There was quiet. "Stop swearing at your mother," he said calmly.

Bill muttered an apology. Molly's blotchy, tear-stained face turned away from him; she moved to regard the rest of the room. She noticed Sirius.

"Why would you tell him before telling me?" she croaked.

Sirius was sure his own face stayed poker blank. It was the way Fred and George looked at each other that gave him away. Molly's hand flew to her mouth and he knew the game was up. She took in a deep breath and he decided to try to head her off before she got started.

"Hear me out, Molly. Don't jump to conclusions." He stood up.

"You!" she hissed. "You? You!"

"Yes, me but …" he trailed off. He couldn't think of any mitigating factors and he wasn't about to say something poofy like 'I love him' in front of a room full of Bill's relatives.

He had let Molly build up a head of steam: "You reckless, inconsiderate, devious, depraving, thoughtless animal!" she screamed, standing up herself. "I might have known you'd be behind this! You might have been brought up with the Dark Pure family ways, but my son has been --"

Sirius found he was pointing at her and raising his own voice, "This 'Mistress' set-up isn't my idea! You think that's what I want?" His finger was shaking.

"Bill?" Arthur turned on his heir.

"I thought it was all cool, Siz," Bill mumbled, sinking into the cushions.

"What made you think that?" Sirius snapped back.

Bill looked up and for a moment they just stared at each other. Sirius found he couldn't breathe. All he was conscious of was Bill's perfect face: the spray of freckles round the nose, the clear hazel eyes, the tanned, even features. Then his knees gave way and he sank back into the armchair.

Molly released a soft "Oh".

Then a voice from behind Sirius brought him back.

Fred asked, "Are you saying that Fleur's not bothered about you two sha … sleeping together?"

Bill shrugged. "Not the tiniest bit. She's old-fashioned, believes in the old Pure ways."

"Which are?" Fred asked.

"A load of old nonsense!" Arthur answered. "Just an excuse to keep a mistress."

"Or a Boy," Sirius added, softly.

"That sounds brilliant! Institutionalised philandering! I'm going to do that!" Fred enthused. Molly sighed.

Bill snapped, "Well you can't 'cos you have to be the heir, the first-born son!"

Fred's face fell.

"It came about because there were so many political marriages among the Dark families," Arthur explained. "It's hardly applicable."

"Sirius is an oldest son, too," George pointed out, emotionlessly. "Does he get his own Boy?"

Bill spun round and blasted his younger brother: "If he did, he wouldn't want some scrawny schoolboy like you!"

There was a frozen silence.

Crimson-faced, George broke it with a hate-filled hiss, "Thanks bro. That's how I was planning on Coming Out to my folks -" Then his voice rose as he stormed from the room, shouting "Nice and calm, and in my own time!"

Molly rubbed her face and muttered, "Oh, Merlin, Arthur! Two of them! What did we do wrong?"

"Molly!" Arthur warned, exasperated.

"Oh, no, no, I didn't mean that, I didn't mean that," she tried to reassure Bill.

Arthur said, " I'll go after George. Remind him that we love him unconditionally and embrace all his choices." He looked pointedly at his wife before leaving the room.

"Godric's G-string! George'll be mortified," said Fred, concern and amusement in his voice. He gave Bill an evil stare as he followed their father.

Molly patted Bill. "You do know I do love you whatever, don't you?" she asked.

"You'd just prefer it if I was straight," Bill answered.

Molly sighed again. "It would just be easier for you. Gideon had so much trouble --"

Sirius cut in, "Bill's hardly Gideon! Your brother was a screa -- A brilliant man, don't get me wrong."

"He was always getting into fights," Molly complained, moist eyed again.

"But that was the point, Molly!" Sirius chuckled. "He was never happier than when he had his wand pointed at a Dark Wizard and nothing brought out the bigots like his lilac-haired, limp-wristed, boa-swishing, high camp, screaming queen --" he suddenly broke off and put his head in his hands, "I miss him."

"Me too," Molly added simply. "Even though he did borrow my sweaters without asking and stretched them at the shoulders."

They were both lost in their own thoughts for a while. Bill didn't disturb them.

"Do you remember your Uncle Gideon?" Molly asked him eventually.

"Not really," Bill admitted. "Well, the hair. And the shoes. A bit."

"One of the good guys," Sirius said.

Molly looked from Sirius to Bill a few times and eventually said, "I wouldn't mind so much if you seemed to be making each other happy. But Sirius has been as miserable as ever this past week."

"It's Fleur, isn't it?" Bill conceded.

Sirius nodded self-consciously. Molly turned crisply to her first-born and began to interrogate him. "Does Sirius make you happy?"

Bill blushed, but replied, "Deliriously." Sirius felt himself colour then.

"Then why propose to that girl?" Molly demanded.

"You want Grandchildren."

Molly snorted. "You're hardly the only person who can give me those."

"Well, I want children," Bill admitted.

"I don't know if you've noticed, son, but we are at the start of what will probably be a long and hard-fought war. It's horrible, but there will be orphans. They will need parents. Think how different Harry's childhood would have been if he'd been adopted by a loving couple like you two."

Sirius realised how true that was. He had always felt guilty that he hadn't been there for Harry during the early years. He'd never really considered raising a child. If that was what Bill wanted, it would be OK, though.

But Bill muttered, "Not the same. I want my own."

Molly raised her hands. "And I want Narcissa Malfoy's figure, but I wouldn't put up with her husband to get it! Life isn't perfect. If we're lucky, it's the next best thing! It's all about children then?"

Bill shook his head. "I want to be taken seriously," he said, slowly and quietly. "I hated it at school. The open hostility I could fight, I could hate them. But I hated the sniggering, the whispers, the assumptions. I want to be respected, not … not some old joke."

It was quiet. The clock ticked. Nobody spoke, they did not look at each other. Sirius was hurt, he realised that he was being humiliated for Bill's pride. In the context of prison and death and evil, Bill's reasoning seemed petty. At the same time, Sirius understood perfectly.


	33. Chapter 33 Hot Dog With Sauce

I DO NOT OWN HARRY POTTER, THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX, DANIEL RADCLIFFE, HOGWARTS, BERTIE BOTTS' EVERY FLAVOUR BEANS, TOM FELTON, THE MARAUDERS' MAP, JKR'S LIPGLOSS, THE BURROW, THE RESURRECTION STONE, A DOG, HELENA BONHAM-CARTER, ALBUS DUMBLEDORE, NAGINI, THE WHOMPING WILLOW, A PENIS, JACOB BLACK, ALAN RICKMAN, A SIX INCH WAND OF HOLLY WITH A UNICORN HAIR CORE, OR WARNER BROTHERS. I DO OWN JASON ISAACS, THOUGH, AND I KEEP HIM IN A CUPBOARD AND MAKE HIM PUT ON A LONG, BLOND WIG WHEN MY HUSBAND GOES OUT. OK THAT WAS A LIE. J K ROWLING OWNS EVERYTHING IN THE WHOLE WIDE WORLD INCLUDING JASON ISAAC'S WIG.

_Warning: Boy-love smut including rimming. But if you've made it this far then I don't think that will shock you._

Hot Dog With Sauce

"I want to be taken seriously," Bill said, not quite believing that he was admitting this. "I hated it at school. The open hostility I could fight, I could hate them. But I hated the sniggering, the whispers, the assumptions. I want to be respected, not … not some old joke."

_Bums to the ground, boys, Weasley's around._

_Maybe we could learn a potion to turn Weasley into a real boy, Sir._

_Is it called Head Boy cos that's what you give the teachers? _

_It's not the Quidditch that's the problem, Bill. The other boys in the team just aren't comfortable with you being in the Changing Room. I don't have a choice._

It was quiet. The clock ticked. Nobody spoke, they did not look at each other.

_Andromeda Black was disowned by her family because she loved Ted Tonks._

_Lily Potter gave up her life for the love of her son._

_Frank Longbottom took the Cruciatus Curse to try to protect his Alice._

_Uncle Gideon used the ridicule to root out the bigots so he could curse them._

It had all made sense when Fleur had explained it. But she was barely out of childhood; she had never fallen in love. How could she understand what she proposed? Why had he listened to her?

He wrapped his arms round himself and lowered his head. His whole body clenched in on itself. He was petty and pathetic and selfish and it was hurting the last person he ever wanted to hurt. His pride was such a very little thing and his love was so big. It shouldn't be so painful to decide.

He lifted his eyes and looked across the room at the sullen, gaunt, wrinkled, scruffy, perfect man in the armchair and pleaded, "Siz. Make everything better."

Sirius looked warily at Molly and Bill remembered that she was sitting next to him. She stood and smoothed her skirts.

"I'll leave you two boys to it," she said. "I will just say, son, that you're the only one who can make things better now. I'd best go and see how George is."

"Oh, George!" Bill remembered what he had done and curled in on himself even further. "Tell him I'm sorry, will you?"

She left the room, shutting the door behind her.

Bill rubbed at his face, but it didn't make him feel any better. Then he felt Sirius sink onto the sofa next to him. He put his arms round Bill's shoulders and his chin on Bill's lowered head. Bill nearly said 'I love you', but remembered Sirius telling him that words were easy and tears were cheap.

"Silly boy," Sirius muttered.

"You know tomorrow?" Bill asked.

"Trying not to think about it," Sirius replied.

The schoolchildren would be taking the Hogwarts Express and the Weasleys would return to The Burrow. Sirius would be alone again, which he hated, but Bill would hate it, too.

"Is it alright if I stay?"

Sirius pulled back suddenly, then took hold of Bill's face and raised it so that he could read his expression. "Stay here?" he asked.

Bill nodded. "Move in? Can I?"

Sirius looked as though he were about to jump at the chance, then something clouded his features.

"It's too late to talk to Fleur now," Bill gabbled. "I'll see her at work tomorrow. Needs to be face to face. She's been generous, really, but she doesn't understand. I have to explain why I'm finishing with her. I don't want to upset anyone. Mostly you, though, can't make you unhappy any more."

"She'll be fine. She doesn't love you. If she did she couldn't share you," Sirius croaked. Then his face cracked into a huge smile that looked like the sun coming out. "Fair enough, I suppose you can stay. How long for?"

Bill grinned back. "I was thinking of forever?" He cocked his head on one side.

"Not quite long enough," Sirius replied softly, pecking a kiss onto the end of Bill's nose.

Bill pulled one hand out from between their two bodies, and traced a finger over Sirius' cheekbone, through the hollow underneath and down to the sensitive spot on his neck. He brought their mouths together and felt Sirius' tongue push eagerly into the kiss. Fingers snaked into his hair, pulling out the band holding his pony-tail.

Sirius broke away suddenly to grunt, "We should move. Poor innocent Ginny. Remember?"

Then they were broken atoms floating in darkness and Bill handed all control to the man whose arms held him.

They landed on the bed.

"Our bedroom." Sirius smiled.

Bill nodded and then renewed the slow, deep kiss. He raised his arms like a child and Sirius removed his robes. Bill stared up as his lover planted a soft kiss at the edge of his mouth, then at the other edge, then worked his way to the middle, alternating sides.

Next Sirius shifted his weight onto one arm and Bill turned his head to watch the wiry muscles contract. Sirius ducked down, putting his nose behind Bill's ear and gently nibbling along his jaw, while his free hand stroked over Bill's exposed chest.

Tingling, Bill stroked long, black hair. He could hear himself purring. Then, he arched his neck backwards as Sirius licked his nipples, his navel and then disappeared down to pull off his socks. He kissed each toe in turn and then the spaces between them, before pushing on Bill's arches to bring his knees to his chest.

Sirius nuzzled down a pale, muscular inner thigh until he reached the stretched buttocks. He slipped his short-nailed fore and index fingers under the top of the thick elastic waistband of Bill's Calvins. Achingly slowly he pulled down, lightly scratching the skin he passed with his long-nailed fingers as he removed the underwear.

Bill's engorged cock caught on the black cotton and Sirius freed it with his lips. He lapped once at the sticky tip. Once only. Bill groaned as his lover knelt up, increasing their distance.

All trace of Egypt had faded from Bill's skin. The white of his arse was now the colour of the rest of his body. Bill clasped his fingers around Sirius' strong, bony hands as they held him still.

"I love you, Siz," he murmured.

With a swish of silky black hair, Sirius ducked down between Bill's knees and firm, tongue moist strokes massaged his eager hole. Bill tried to watch, to remember forever his own nakedness and his man's clothed body ministering to it, but the sensations were too strong. With one strong arm, his knees were pressed to his chest while sensitive, slow, expert hands and a mouth worked on him.

He floated through the sensuality, at one point barely aware that what he was feeling was a thumb being pressed through his ring of muscle.

He opened his eyes. A naked Sirius was hovering over his body. Bill reached up to stroke his cheekbone again and Sirius' eyelids fluttered. Then slowly, gently, softly, their bodies joined and they moved their hips together, apart, together, relishing every point of contact.

Bill caressed the back of Sirius' strong, taut neck and eased their mouths back into contact. Eyes closed, tongues probing, they undulated together for longer than either had thought possible before.

When they finally climaxed, they both came at the same time and with every nerve-ending in their bodies

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_Author's Note: That was the penultimate chapter. Next chapter it all ends - one way or the other!_


	34. Chapter 34 A Shaggy Dog Story

HARRY POTTER AND EVERYTHING RELATING TO THAT MAGICAL UNIVERSE BELONG TO JK ROWLING, WARNER BROS, BLOOMSBURY BOOKS ETC. AND I AM VERY LUCKY TO BE ALLOWED TO PLAY WITH IT ALL.

A Shaggy Dog Story 

The breeze blowing through the rafters wafting loose straw around, the clouds beyond the window pane and the rain drumming onto it, the blankets wrapped over the sickly Hippogryph and the mud drying on Remus' trouser-legs made the room look like autumn. But it was June.

"How's he doing?" the werewolf asked from the doorway.

Sirius looked up. He was sitting against the wall to the left of the door, hunched over. His hair was wild, matted in places, his stubble long and the bags under his eyes deep.

"Better, I think. Just got the last poultice on. Got to wait for another half hour to make sure that's worked." Sirius directed his friend's attention to Buckbeak's leg, which was bandaged with faded black silk, round which a green paste seeped.

Remus came into the room and sat down on the floor to the right of the door. He pushed it closed to examine his former lover.

"You been in here all day?" he asked.

Sirius nodded. "Since it happened in the early hours."

"Know who did it?"

"Got my suspicions. Let's just say I'll be giving the House Elf a direct order not to harm any Magical Creatures in my care."

The door opened a crack and a blue-haired Tonks stuck her head through. She saw Sirius first and sighed with relief.

"Here you are!" she exclaimed. "Wotcher Cuz! Would you say you were safe, sound and in the house?"

"Er. Yeah. Hi Nymphi!"

"Call me that again and I won't be able to report back that you're in one piece!"

"Who's checking up on him?" Remus asked.

Tonks turned quickly, blushed deeply and her hair colour drained down to tawny brown with grey streaks.

"Wotcher Remus! Didn't know you were … er Snape. Don't know why. Better let him know." She retreated swiftly, closing the door over her own foot as she went.

"Somebody's got a crush," Sirius muttered.

"Who has? What's Severus up to do you think?"

"Tonks has. And since when have you called Professor Slimeball by his first name? You fancy him now?"

"Fuck off and grow up!" Remus said in a gentle, friendly way. "That who your cousin likes?"

Sirius didn't answer, just muttered, "Idiot!"

"How much longer you hanging out in here? It stinks."

"Didn't ask you to move in."

"Just thought we could hang out for a couple of minutes. I've got a meeting with the Aurors in the kitchen as soon as Shacklebolt shows up. Better up here than watching Alastor pacing and muttering."

Sirius crawled quietly over to Buckbeak and eased back the edge of a bandage. He resumed his position against the wall before commenting, "Nearly healed. Another quarter of an hour maybe."

They sat in easy silence for a while before Sirius interrupted it by asking, "Have you heard this one? Man walks into a bar …"

"Ouch!" Remus sniggered at his own joke.

"Not that one. There's a dog there, licking his balls and the …"

"'If you give him a bone I expect he'll let you.' Yeah, I heard it. That's an old one. Here's another old one, you'll like this. This one's right up your street - What does a man get when he marries his mistress?"

"Go on, then, what does a man get when he marries his mistress?"

"A vacancy!" Remus guffawed.

Sirius didn't. He threw dirty straw at Remus, who avoided it neatly. The door opened again.

"You still here? Oh, you've got company." Bill glared at Lupin, who glared back.

"Just checking on everything. As you're too busy." Remus sneered.

"Well, there are three Aurors cluttering up our kitchen and I think it was you they were swearing about, at least I don't know any other useless, lazy werewolves …"

Remus rose with dignity and brushed the straw off his robes, "Had a good day at the bank did you, Weasley? Mind the numbers don't bite you." He swept past and out of the door.

Bill shouted after him, "Keep your nose clean, Lupin. Don't want anything flying out of it!" Then he closed the door firmly and asked, "How's the patient?"

"Nearly there. Taken all day, though. Can't you be nice to Remus?"

Bill crouched down beside Sirius, sliding one arm round his waist and stroking his neck with the other hand.

"Been thinking about you _all _day," he murmured, pressing his nose into the hollow under Sirius' cheekbone. He slid his hand down to the waistband of his man's jeans and started to tug at the buttonhole.

"No temper tantrum from Fleur to distract you?" Sirius asked acidly, but stroked Bill's thigh at the same time.

Nibbling at Sirius' earlobe as he spoke, Bill muttered, "They've transferred her to Toronto." He worked the button out and started to slowly lower the zip. His other hand tugged the shirt loose and caressed warm skin. "Rignaff said I was too valuable a worker to be distracted by some hysterical woman a couple of times a week." Bill ducked his head down and yanked down the front of Sirius' trousers in one movement.

"Hey! Hey!" Sirius protested half-heartedly, "There's an innocent animal in here."

Then he stopped protesting and moaned as Bill took his entire length into his mouth and sucked hard. Sirius arched into the sensation. He hardened rapidly inside the warm, moist, insistent pressure.

Bill pulled down the tight denim even further to fit Sirius' balls into his hand. His tongue worked patterns over the growing flesh in his mouth.

"This what you've been thinking about all day?" Sirius asked, panting.

"Mmmmhmmm," Bill concurred in a hum, the vibrations of his voice shooting through the nerve-endings of his lover's body.

Buckbeak snorted a warning they ignored and then the door to the room burst open.

"Bill, you have to come now! Oh, shit! Your bedroom's only next door." Remus squeaked.

"Not now," Sirius grunted, wrapping his fingers into smooth red hair.

"Harry's at the Department of Mysteries!" Remus insisted and the blow-job was instantly forgotten. Bill sprang to his feet and Sirius struggled up, adjusting his jeans. "He and some pals - including Ron and Ginny -" Remus directed at Bill "seem to think they're rescuing you -" directed at Sirius. "Death Eaters on their way there. We need Order members."

Sirius and Bill reached for their wands.

"Not you Sirius! You wait here. Albus is due in a few minutes, you need to explain to him …"

"Are you mad?" Sirius bellowed, thumping the wall. Plaster showered down his arm as he shouted, "He's my Godson! You think I'm going to stay here …"

"Yes, you are! Come on Bill, there's no time!" Remus started to bound down the stairs.

Sirius tried to follow.

"No!" Remus screamed back, "You stay here! You're Harry's weakness. Bill! Now!"

"One minute!" Bill called after him, using all his strength to stop his lover.

Lupin swore and continued bounding down the stairs.

Bill turned to face Sirius, holding him still by the shoulders. "You stay here. Wait for Albus."

"You are fucking joking!" Sirius spat.

"You could put Harry in more danger!" Bill tried. "He's only there cos he cares about you …"

"That's cos he's family! We're all the family we've got! I'm not leaving him to Death Eaters …"

"Don't you trust me? What's yours is mine. Trust me!" Bill enunciated slowly, staring into the fathomless grey eyes he loved. "Just a few minutes, talk to Albus, get your orders. I have to go now. Don't follow."

"Why can't I …?" Sirius whined pathetically.

"You're a target. They'll get you to get at Harry. I'm not risking losing you now."

"Be careful!" Sirius whispered, his body still straining against Bill's hands.

"Of course. I'm coming back to you. If you're a good boy and do what you're told I'll give you the best blowjob in the world!" He let go and stepped warily away from the gaunt body.

Sirius stayed where he was. Bill pecked a quick kiss onto his cheek and headed off down the stairs, waking portraits on the way. A couple of them called encouragements, the rest insulted his parentage, sexuality, lineage or political allegiance. Sirius took a couple of steps forward, but only as far as the railing at the top of the staircase. His surge of adrenalin was spent. Resentfully, regretfully, he restrained himself. He leaned over and watched the red ponytail and strong wand arm of his man flashing in and out of view as he raced down to the Floo in the kitchen.

"What sort of an incentive is that?" He shouted down the stairwell. "I get one of those every day!"

THE END

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_Author's note: There you go! Save the Animagus, save the world! Hope you're not too disappointed with the deviation from canon at the end._

_I'd like to take this opportunity to thank everyone for reading this. I really appreciate all the reviews. I'd like to wish everybody a Slashy Christmas and a Smutty New Year!_


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